


Standstill

by Elle_Smith



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Smith/pseuds/Elle_Smith
Summary: Heero isn't really the type of guy a girl would take home to her mother, but when they're invited them to spend Labor Day Weekend at her mother's Hampton's beach house, Relena must find a way to make it work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for the 2017 GW Block Party Fanwork End-of-Summer Trope Shenanigans.**  
>     
> 
> 
> **Beta reader** : Odamaki  
>  **Alpha reader** : Lbro009
> 
>  **Tropes:** Meet the Parents | Stuck in Traffic | Road Trip | Surprise!Trope
> 
>  **Pairing:** Established 1xR (following the events of [A Queens Valentine's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6000750), but can be read separately). 
> 
> **Warning:** In my defense, the GW Block Party mods did instruct us to have _"shameless fun"_. I will promise there's none of my usual Heero torture/gore/rape, but this thing can go anywhere. Read at your own discretion, because the rest is spoilers.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** This story is basically a sequel to [A Queens Valentine's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6000750), but it can also stand on its own. I've been toying with the idea of what their relationship might be like after hooking up in the previous story, and I finally got a chance to explore some of these ideas. If you want to read the prequel first, you're more than welcome.
> 
> I started writing this in summer 2017, and then kind of neglected it after posting the first part for the GW Summer Block Party Trope-fest event on Tumblr, because... reasons.
> 
> Anyway, I had planned to post the second part for Mother's Day 2018 (it seemed fitting), but I couldn't meet that deadline either. So now here it is, right in time for summer 2018! ^_^
> 
> Full disclosure: I went all out with the tropes, shamelessly writing a fanfic full of tropey-clichés – and I loved every goddamn minute of it! This fic contains an unwarranted amount of disgusting fluff so atypical of me it almost didn't see the light of day. I'm almost ashamed of writing this thing, but you know what? I'm not, because this has been the most self-indulgent fic I have ever written, and it was a pleasure to write. Even if no one reads this, I had fun making it. Therefore, without further ado, I give you my idea of shameless GW fun:

"Heero, **_WATCH OUT!_** _"_ Relena shrieked and raised both arms to brace for impact. Heero's foot slammed on the brakes, stopping the car a millisecond before it bumped into the vehicle ahead. Hardly a life-threatening collision, considering they were creeping along the highway at a snail's pace. The two bumpers would have exchanged a gentle kiss and nothing more. Heero turned to face the passenger seat, glaring at her.

" _Seriously?!_ " He snapped, blue eyes seething; "Relena – what the hell?!"

Feeling foolish, she smiled in apology. "Sorry," she mumbled, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "It looked like you were daydreaming."

Heero scoffed and turned to face the wheel again. He glowered at the column of vehicles stretching along the highway.

"Do you see any reason to keep alert?" he groused, clutching the steering wheel tightly.

Relena heaved a sigh, shaking her head. "Well, what do you expect, on Labor Day? Everyone in New York City and their brother are headed to the Hamptons this weekend."

She turned to look out at miles upon miles of traffic. The Long Island Expressway heading east was completely jammed and they had been stuck in this mess for over three hours. It was a real shame too, because they were only a few lousy miles away from their exit, having already covered most of their journey from NYC to Montauk. Nothing ruined holiday plans like being stuck in traffic, but as New Yorkers, they pretty much had no choice. The city suffered the worst backups in the nation this weekend. They were both very high-strung, after spending over three hours on the road and getting nowhere.

"We would have beat traffic if you had woken up on time," she crossed her arms, scowling out the window.

"Then why didn't you wake me?" Heero grumbled – hardly a trait she associated with him, but the twenty-six-year-old man sitting next to her was nothing like the sixteen-year-old boy she always compared him to. He began tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, glaring disdainfully at the traffic jam ahead. If there was one thing he hated, it was being all geared up for action, yet remaining completely inert.

"I tried! Nothing worked!" Relena exclaimed. "You were obviously exhausted, so I let you sleep in."

"Of course I'm exhausted;" – he sighed in annoyance – "Baker has been working me like a damn dog."

"Be grateful you still have a job," she uttered sarcastically, a useless attempt to beat him in his own game. Heero shot her such a nasty look that she immediately regretted it. There was no room for her sarcasm in the car.

She sighed, shoulders slumping tiredly, weary of the fight. "Sorry," she mumbled, glancing down at her lap; "that was a cheap shot."

Heero drew his mouth back in a snarl, scowling out the windshield. She should have known better than to rub salt into open wounds. He had only recently returned to his position at Preventer's NYC Cyber Intelligence Unit, after twelve weeks away on medical leave. His job performance had been declining, before he had finally checked himself into rehab, but since he got help before his employer took any disciplinary action, they couldn't fire him for poor performance. He had been back at the office for three months now, during which his boss has been working him into the ground. Heero had to prove his worth again. The stress was getting to him, and drinking it away was no longer an option.

Nowadays, he was constantly fatigued and cranky. She tried to be sympathetic, but sometimes her patience wore thin. He had a unique knack for getting under her skin. Most of the time she felt like she was walking on eggshells around him. His difficult nature was certainly a challenge, one she was still figuring out how to handle, little by little. He'd get mad at silly little things, like how she had stacked the dishwasher, or misplaced the remote. But she had never seen him so restless before. His fingers tapped ceaselessly on the wheel.

"I'm just saying, that's all the more reason to get away this weekend," she tried to lighten the mood with a bit of humor, offering a truce with a soft smile. "Isn't that what Labor Day is all about?"

He ceased tapping, but his grip on the wheel tightened. He glared at the car ahead, the one he had nearly bumped into a minute ago, and said nothing.

Relena observed him, chewing on her bottom lip, hands in her lap. She rubbed them together, fingers interlaced. She didn't know him to get this agitated, but then again – what did she know? In a way, she'd only known him for about six months.

Their chance-encounter on Valentine's Day had changed a lot about the way she now perceived him[1]. Their disastrous date had left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Heero had arrived completely drunk and the evening had only spiraled down from there. Seeing him in his absolute disgrace had shattered every childish notion she had once held of him. Heero was not the same person she had known ten years prior; perhaps he never was the person she had fallen for in her youth. She had to learn to love him all over again, maybe even falling in love for real, and for the first time. It was hard, and Heero certainly wasn't making it any easier.

 _Maybe his leg is bothering him,_ she suddenly realized, and her eyes darted down to his thighs. Her cramped muscles were bothering her too, after sitting in the car for so many hours. If she was feeling the strain, then Heero must be feeling it tenfold. Maybe that was why he was so cranky.

Her eyes traveled down Heero's legs. He was wearing a pair of plain blue jeans, even in the insufferable heat (she had wisely opted for a sundress). She knew he wore long pants even in summer, because of what he wished to conceal. Her gaze focused on his left kneecap, noting how the blue denim loosened just a few inches below the joint, where his flesh ended and the prosthetic limb began. She hurried to look away before he caught her staring.

Heero was very sensitive about his missing leg. It was a mark of shame – evidence of his imperfection. Sex, for one, had been a big deal. It had taken him close to two months before he was willing to take his pants off in front of her. At first, he had let her go down on him, but never let his pants drop below the knee. Intercourse was out of the question, unless she was willing to do it standing up, or have him enter her from behind.

Body image was an extremely sensitive issue with Heero, one to be avoided at all costs. She struggled to find ways to express how he shouldn't have to aim for the nearly inhuman standards he used to uphold in his adolescent years. She could understand equating a muscular, capable body with strength and competence, but it would be terribly vain of him to try to live up to the image of a teenage MS pilot, much like she would never dream of likening to that horribly graceful image forced upon her as "Queen of the World". Things had changed. They had changed, maturing beyond those compulsory titles.

She wanted to convey that to him, somehow. Physically, as well as emotionally. Couldn't he see that she wanted him close? She wanted to sleep with him pressed against her, looking into his eyes. She wanted something more intimate than the sex he'd been willing to give, but Heero refused to let her any closer than they had already become.

Under any other circumstances, she would have tried to loosen him up with a few drinks, but since Heero was a recovering alcoholic, that was definitely out of the question. She had to find another way to help him overcome his insecurity, and she had done it by getting over hers.

Not many knew this about her, because she had never dared sharing this particular flaw before, but she was very self-conscious about her breasts. Even though it was barely noticeable, she knew that they were asymmetric in shape and size and she really hated them. She never let any of her previous lovers see her without a bra, sticking to sexy lingerie instead of sleeping with them in the nude. With Heero, however, she had let go of her inhibitions, exposing her shame in hope it would encourage him to do the same.

They had been lying in bed one night, fully clothed. She had climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and slowly begun taking her clothes off until she had been topless. She had been able to tell that he noticed. She felt the urge to hunch her shoulders forward in an attempt to hide from him, but forced herself to keep still. His eyes studied her chest for a moment, before shifting slowly to meet her anxious face.

Heero didn't say anything, even when she reached to unbutton his pants. He held her gaze firmly as she peeled his pants down, carefully, stopping just below the knee. She looked up, seeking his approval. His blue eyes glimmered in the dark, watching her tensely. Maintaining eye contact, she proceeded to pull his pants down gently, until she exposed his prosthetic left leg. He closed his eyes then, turning his head aside, ashamed. She hesitated, thinking perhaps it was too soon, but it was also too late to back down.

She looked.

It wasn't really that bad. Sad, but not shocking or hideous. It was a below-the-knee amputation, the residual leg ending a few inches below the kneecap, where a tight-fitting prosthetic began. It was a plain apparatus: a knee cuff and belt attaching it to the body, a prosthetic sock over the stump, and an artificial foot with realistic-looking skin – none of the high-tech cybernetics available nowadays. Heero was against getting a cybernetic limb, and she had a feeling that it had something to do with Dr. J's prostheses. She had only met Heero's CLO[2] superior once, but it had been more than enough to leave a lasting impression. She understood why Heero refused to be anything like him.

She had caressed his artificial limb, familiarizing herself with this new and painful part of him.

Heero had reached blindly for a pillow and thrown it over his face. He had arched his back off the bed stiffly as she ran her fingers over his prosthetic leg, studying it quietly. It didn't take anything away from his appeal, only added a new layer to his alluring complexity.

Now, Relena looked up, studying Heero's tense features as he stared intently out the windshield. He was gritting his teeth at the long line of unmoving vehicles in front of them, and she fought back a little smile. She adored his looks, even with that typical hard scowl carved into his perfectly chiseled face.

She would have liked to believe that there were no more secrets between them after that night, but that simply wasn't true. She had barely even scratched the surface of it. There were many secrets, many hurts, behind his harsh demeanor. Most of the time, Heero seemed cool and collected, like he had it all together, but in moments like this, when he was obviously seething inside, she was reminded that it was nothing more than a carefully-crafted masquerade.

It was like looking at a sunset over the ocean. The surface was calm and beautiful, painted by the enthralling light of a golden sun, but underneath darkness ruled the wild currents. She wanted to explore those depths, but she was aware that she might never be allowed to delve too deep. Everything about him was on a need-to-know basis. She didn't even know his real name, or how he had lost his leg; only that it happened while he was on assignment five years ago. In fact, they'd been going out for half a year and she couldn't claim to know him much better than she had back then, during the war.

Why was he so tranquil and soft on some days, but agitated and bitter on others? How come he could be making these adorable little jokes at his own expense one evening and a night later his endearing self-humor would turn into bitter sarcasm? What made him fall silent all of a sudden and sink into dark brooding? What lifted his spirit when he was feeling down? And how could she tell if his apparent good mood was genuine? How could she know what kind of issues to avoid and what were safe to bring up?

Heero had opened up to her to some degree, but not enough to form a truly intimate bond. More often than not, she felt that she was only reacting to him, instead of simply being _with_ him. She didn't understand enough about him to just _be_. Heero always kept her guessing.

What happened to the sixteen-year-old boy who had left the Brussels warzone swearing he would never kill again? What brought him back into the battlefield? He obviously didn't want to stay with Preventer. She had picked up on that on their very first date. He was with the Agency because it was familiar, convenient. It was something he knew how to do. What had changed his careful optimism into bitterness and fatigue?

She didn't know. She didn't know anything, and not for the lack of trying.

He'd jolt awake in the middle of the night, springing up to a sitting position, and the whole bed would shake. She'd crack one eye open, watching him in the dark, letting him think she was still asleep. He'd sit there a moment, panting quietly. She'd watch him run a shaky hand through his hair and turn to look down at where she lay by his side. She'd hurry to close her eyes again, breathing heavily to fake slumber, feeling his eyes on her for a long moment. Then, he'd lie back down, resting stiffly on his back. She'd dare a peek, eyes open just a tiny slit, and find him gazing up at the ceiling, wide awake. Some nights, she'd muster the nerve to reach for his hand, lying limply between them.

 _'Do you want to talk about it?'_ she'd ask.

 _'Go back to sleep,'_ he'd reply gruffly, pulling his hand away.

Heero was good at hiding himself in broad daylight. There were days when she almost forgot about his dark depths, bewitched by his sunset beauty. But at night, they'd lie awake and she'd tremble at the thought of what lay hidden in the deep: the horrors he had been exposed to since early childhood; the torture he had endured; the pain he had both been subjected to, and inflicted upon others. The guilt, the shame. The unbearable amount of self-loathing and remorse. A relentless heartache that had manifested into an actual ailment over the years.

Ever the cynic, Heero said that he had a bad heart. He meant it metaphorically, mostly, hinting at the guilt that weighed on him. However, his heart had also suffered real physical damage, having survived what some had considered inhumanly possible. The stunts he had pulled in his zeal had taken a toll over the years, manifesting in various cardiac and gastrointestinal conditions. Nothing serious, thankfully, and all perfectly manageable using preventive measures, but he was still in the high-risk groups for developing much graver medical conditions as he grew older.

His excessive drinking during the five years since he had lost his leg had only worsened some of the symptoms. He took medication regularly and on most days he was feeling fine. Since he had returned to work, however, Heero seemed to be constantly exhausted, which was why she had offered they should get away for the weekend. That, and the fact that today marked two hundred days of sobriety for Heero, and according to her book – a reason to celebrate.

It was also why they had found themselves stuck on a highway to hell. They were supposed to be out the door by 5 a.m., alas she hadn't been able to get Heero to wake up. He must have suffered another sleepless night, so she'd let him sleep in and waited for him to arouse on his own.

They'd ended up leaving NYC along with the rest of the city, and, after crawling along the interstate for over three hours, Heero only seemed the worse for wear. He was barely paying attention to the road anymore. The line was moving along slowly, but he was just staring dully out the windshield.

The car behind them honked furiously.

"Heero!" Relena exclaimed and he jolted back to life, hissing something nasty under his breath.

"I swear, sometimes you're _trying_ to give me a heart attack..." he muttered as he moved their SUV a few lousy feet forward, closing the gap between them and the car ahead.

"I was _trying_ to keep us from getting rear-ended!" She snapped, flailing her arms angrily. "If you're so tired, you should just let me drive."

"This does not constitute as driving," he replied snippily; "This is..." He frowned, searching for words, "This is... This is _standing still!_ "

He switched off the AC, whirling the dial abruptly.

Relena scoffed. Words weren't his strong suit.

"Forget it," she grumbled, switching the AC back on. "God forbid you'd let me drive."

Heero tsked in annoyance, and reached to close it again.

She flipped it back on, sending him a spiteful glare.

"Stop it," he snapped, flicking the switch off. "It's too cold."

"You're _always_ too cold!" she exploded, turning it back on. "It's like a hundred degrees out there!"

"And sub-zero in here," he grumbled, killing off the AC while sending her a piercing side-glance, daring her to turn it back on again.

"Fine," she grunted, and opened her window instead. "Whatever. I don't want to fight anymore." She glared at the dense line of pine trees at the side of the road. "We're only bickering because we're nervous about today."

Heero snorted dismissively. "When have you ever known me to be nervous?"

She turned to him, sneering. "Aren't you the one who told me I shouldn't assume to know anything about you?"

"I said it when I was _drunk_."

"You mean _a_ drunk." She smirked triumphantly. Yes, it was mean, but so was Heero. She was sick of taking it lying down.

Heero stilled, processing. He turned to face the road, gnashing his teeth at the traffic jam ahead, nostrils flaring. The car just got smaller, verging on claustrophobic.

She had crossed a line, and now he was going into _"battle-mode"_. His arms gripped the wheel tightly, muscles flexing readily under taut skin. He could smack her down in a fraction of a second. Not that he would ever do such a thing, but his power unnerved her. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"Real mature, Relena," he growled, voice low and strained; "I'm sure your mother will be proud."

She winced at his comeback and turned away again. He sure knew which buttons to push and when. Bringing her mother into this – today of all days – well, that was low, even for Heero. She decided to ignore him, as bluntly as she possibly could, and kept facing the passenger side window. This section of the highway passed through the Long Island Pine Barrens. The dense greenery was a refreshing change from the drab highway scenery they'd been driving through for most part of the day. Maybe if she looked hard enough between the trees, she would spot a deer or something. Anything to avoid sniping at each other.

Long minutes passed in tense silence. She began considering whether or not she should offer another truce and pacify Heero somehow. She was surprised when he beat her to it:

"You nervous?" he asked quietly, which meant that he had simmered down. He was trying to start over after having snapped at her one time too many. She was used to it.

Relena held back a weary sigh. Sometimes, she was so tired of forgiving...

"Is it that obvious?" she turned to face him, offering half a smile from the corner of her lip.

"You've been on my case all morning."

She laughed cynically. Wasn't it the other way around? Better to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"As you know," she muttered tensely, "it's not every day that I bring my boyfriend to meet my mother." She turned to look at him intently, trying to coax an honest answer out of him by the sheer brute force of her compelling gaze. "Don't tell me you're not nervous about meeting my family."

Heero didn't tear his eyes off the road, but his lips did twist into a subtle smirk. "I've already met your family," he reminded her, "and if your brother is any indication, I think I know what I'm getting myself into."

This time her smile was genuine. Heero could be so perfectly charming when he wanted to. She appreciated his attempt to deflect the tension back to harmless banter.

"In other words," she quipped, "you picked one hell of a year to quit drinking."

He actually chuckled at her joke, more of a snort really, but still. Maybe today wasn't going to be such a total disaster after all.

Relena sunk back into the passenger seat. She could feel the tension leaving her body and only then realized that she'd been tense the whole ride. She laid her arm on the door and leaned against the windowsill for a minute or so.

"At least Zechs knows all about you..." she mumbled thoughtfully after a while; "But with mother..." She released another weary sigh. "There's too much baggage. She never once accompanied my father up there. Space... unnerves her. And she never forgave it for what happened to dad. I can't talk to her about back then. If she asks about you... I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Start at the end and go back only as far as she's willing to go," Heero offered, and she turned to him, quirking an eyebrow at his surprising insight. He shrugged his shoulders. "That's what I do, anyway."

"Yeah?" she smiled uneasily, "And how far back do you usually get to go?"

His face seemed to harden at her question. The walls were going back up.

The traffic moved along a few inches. Heero let their SUV glide forward a bit, keeping his eyes on the road.

"...not far," he then muttered quietly, sighing.

His words triggered a familiar pain in her chest, the kind of angst she felt when he finally exposed some of those well-hidden layers lurking in the deep. She regarded him quietly for a moment, frowning thoughtfully as she studied his sealed expression.

"And with me?" she worked up the courage to ask, letting the question out carefully.

Heero kept his focus solely on the road. Traffic was picking up a little and he moved the car another couple of feet.

"We'll see," he said.

Relena knew better than to push the issue. This was not the time or place to be having this conversation. She turned her attention back to the pines, searching for a distraction. They could both use some quiet time with their thoughts.

Her mother came to mind. They had gotten very close since the war ended. Her mother was the only person who had still seen her as the child that she was at the tender age of sixteen. She had insisted on taking her away from the political spotlight and helped get her life back on track. Relena returned to school, then university, achieving some semblance of normalcy after the chaos of war. Her mother had saved her from becoming something she wasn't sure she wanted to become. She allowed her to take her time, to grow and mature enough to face this world; a world still struggling with the aftermath of devastating war.

There was much to be done. Ten years after the AC 195 armistice and the full terms of peace between Earth and the Colonies were still being negotiated. Earth's disarmament was taking far longer than expected and there would be no permanent peace treaty without full disarmament. It seemed that every other day, some kind of secret weapons stash was uncovered in one allegedly- abandoned military post or another. She was fairly certain Heero had lost his leg hunting down one of these many bases in the Middle East.

Total pacifism was still just a pair of pretty words. The same problems would always be there, so she could bide her time preparing for tomorrow. She would step back into the spotlight once she was ready to face those problems head-on.

At any rate, earlier that year, she had left her mother and her home in Europe to complete her studies here in the US. She had won a prestigious internship at the United Nations Headquarters – all expenses paid for an entire semester. She never planned to stay longer, but that soon changed after she had bumped into Heero that Valentine's Day. She still planned to complete her Master's from the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies in Geneva before returning to politics, but she had decided to write her thesis in New York, so that she could be with Heero. After running into him on Valentine's, she wasn't going to take any chances and let him disappear again. Fate had brought them back together for a reason, of that she was certain. Heero himself had admitted that if not for meeting her again, he never would have realized that he had hit rock bottom. He never would have fought his addiction if not for her.

She told her mother she had found a Professor at NYU who was willing to guide her through her thesis, so she was staying for another year at least. She didn't dare tell her about Heero at first, but her mother soon figured out that the real reason behind her stay in New York was because of _'some young gentleman'_. The problem was that Heero wasn't just any "gentleman". He was a missing link from her past and she couldn't possibly share that fact with her mother. Not yet, at least.

For the past ten years, her mother had done everything in her power to help Relena distance herself from the role she had played in the war. Relena didn't resent her for that; in fact, she was grateful. Her mother had spared her from the tragic fate most early-stardom children experienced after their loss of fame. She had enlisted the aid of many professionals, from private tutors to help her catch up with lost curriculum and prepare for academic studies, to a personal coacher to help her realize if she truly wanted to follow in her father's footsteps into politics, and also a therapist to help her build the necessary resilience to the traumas she had experienced. How could she ever explain running back into the arms of someone who was the trigger, if not the very embodiment, of this trauma?

Her mother felt that she needed to protect her from the past. She didn't take too kindly to her leaving for the US, even more so to her decision to prolong her stay. Relena understood her mother's reluctance to let go. She had made this mistake once before, during the war, allowing her only child to run away and head straight into the eye of a terrible storm. A lot had changed since then. They had worked to better their relationship. Her mother hadn't given birth to her, but she was the only mother she had ever known. Relena didn't consider herself an adopted child; she was a Darlian – if not from cradle, then to the grave.

She had planned to introduce Heero to her mother on her own terms, preferably sometime _next century_. Her mother was a distinguished European socialite who hung in the most exclusive social circles. First impressions were everything. If she were to introduce her history with Heero before her mother actually met him, it would be disastrous. And it was no good telling her mother that Heero was an old flame either. Even explaining how he had played a leading role in the final act of the war, essentially saving the planet wouldn't help. No matter how she might present it, Heero was something from her past, and as such – unacceptable.

And then her mother suddenly got it into her head that it would be a good idea to surprise her with a sudden visit this Labor Day Weekend, flying over without warning and inviting them to her Hamptons beach house. She had sprung the whole thing on Relena less than a week ago, after she had already made plans to spend the weekend with Heero. Instead, her mother had invited them over for the long weekend. A recipe for disaster, that much was certain. Heero wasn't really the kind of guy a girl would take home to her mother. She really wanted him to make a good first impression (especially in the face of definite disapproval), but she would never dream of asking him to go out of his way to impress the woman. As if their relationship wasn't strained enough!

A few minutes of agonizingly slow driving passed in tense silence. Nothing had changed on the road when she looked ahead of the car again.

"What you wouldn't give for a Gundam right now, huh?" she joked, struggling to ease the tension. Heero was still staring fixedly at the road, but she could see his lips twitch a little as he fought back a smile.

"I'd settle for a motorcycle," he returned the jest.

"No way!" She argued, adding a playful lilt to her voice. "We'd be there in no time if we were airborne."

He scoffed, a crude, bitter sound. "My flying days are over," he muttered, no more amusement in his voice. His Prussian blue eyes seemed darker as he kept his focus on the road ahead. Tired, he shifted in his seat, adjusting his left leg. _It really has been bothering him_ , Relena realized, and berated herself for not suggesting a pit stop a few miles back. He never would have asked for a break. She should have given him a graceful way out.

She cast her eyes down. It dawned on her how difficult it must have been for him to lose his leg, which had forced him to give up all that he had ever known. From a warrior capable of spreading his wings and soaring, he had turned into a mere mortal, condemned to live his life on the ground with the rest of them. Heero was grounded and tainted by humanity. There was no more thrill in his life, and no more greatness.

She often felt the same way. Her life had peaked at merely fifteen years old and everything that came after that was just a terribly drawn-out postlude. She had chosen this, telling herself that she was preparing for the second act – her return to politics to change the world once more. Some days, this promise felt more like a lie, but on most days it was what kept her going. She didn't know what else to do with her life. And if she was feeling so lost and burnt-out, what about Heero? Just like the Long Island Expressway, his life had come to a complete standstill.

"You must get bored," she murmured, staring at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. Heero didn't say anything to confirm or deny her assumption, which was nothing new. His silence usually implied his agreement.

"I mean, you used to pilot these massive mobile suits and now..." She turned to face him with a helpless smile; it almost felt like she was apologizing. "And now you're stuck in traffic with your girlfriend on the way to meet her mother."

Her words must have struck a responsive chord with Heero, for he finally turned to face her fully, frowning. Relena couldn't tell whether he was expressing confusion, or critique. She chuckled nervously, looking up to meet his intense blue eyes.

"It's just that..." She hesitated a second, before continuing. "Life turned out to be so... ordinary... didn't it?"

Heero regarded her quietly for a moment, the frown still on his face. He then turned to face the windshield again, gazing up at the blue skies with a stoic expression.

"Yes. It did."

Relena wanted to ask if it was good or bad, but she knew she wouldn't get an answer. Heero was on full lockdown. She couldn't seem to say anything right today. He was way too tense. Her guess was that this was simply him being nervous about meeting her mother. It was yet another exercise in banality, and as such it didn't bode too well for him. To him, the most benign things in life would pose the greatest challenge. Even something as trivial as getting a haircut or going to the dentist would require days of mental prep and cause him great stress. _'I don't like it,'_ he had snapped when she approached him about it once. _'That chair creeps me out.'_

It was hard for him to let his guard down completely, put himself in the hands of a stranger and trust said stranger with sharp instruments. On his bad days, he would even storm out of the place before the dental treatment/haircut was done. She could handle cutting his hair for him when his unruly bangs got completely out of control, but she couldn't do anything about his teeth. Heero had suffered a lot of dental damage during the war and had to visit the dentist regularly.

She decided that they'd had enough talking. Nothing good was ever going to come out of it. There was only so much she could ask of him before he would shut her out. Taking him to meet her mother was already asking for too much, too soon. Heero, of course, never backed down from a challenge, which was all the more reason why she was always careful about what she asked of him. She was always afraid of doing something that would trigger his drinking problem, even though he's been abstaining from alcohol since February. It was just that, without liquor as an outlet, he didn't really know how to cope most of the time.

She had learned to accept the snippy bickering as part of the package. It was an outlet, and the lesser evil. Most of the time she tried to stir the banter into a more playful direction. Usually, he got the message and played along, adding a little dark humor into the situation to defuse the tension. They'd never really had a big fight, which perhaps wasn't such a good sign. Couples should fight and then kiss and makeup. If she was too afraid to provoke him into a real confrontation, then something was wrong with what they had.

Sometimes, it felt like she was spending most of her time and energy trying to pacify him, or keeping him pacified. This was not the kind of peacekeeper she had envisioned she'd become. But she loved him. She truly did. She loved the good, and the bad. The bad made his good all that more precious. True, sometimes it was more like gentling a wild animal than getting intimate with your lover, but she loved that proud feeling she got when he finally let her in. She believed that they could make it work. They just needed more time. A _whole_ lot more time, before going to her mother's beach house for the weekend!

"Are you?" Heero suddenly asked and Relena's already frayed nerves sizzled. Would it _kill_ him to form a complete coherent sentence?

She sighed internally before turning back to face the driver's side.

"Am I what?" she asked as patiently as she could. How much longer until they got there?!

"...bored," he whispered.

Oops.

She turned to look out the window, hiding her shame. She'd hate to make him feel as though he wasn't enough, but he deserved nothing short of her complete honesty.

"More like exhausted..." she sighed, "But I guess you can call it that," she added, shrugging. She glance up, seeking his eyes behind the messy locks of hair falling over his forehead.

"You're not the only one trying to adjust," she said and turned back to look out the window.

Heero didn't say anything in response. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, but she couldn't muster the strength to face him. She had a sinking feeling that she should have lied, and she didn't want to see the look on his face that would confirm it. Instead, she leaned out the window, resting both arms on the windowsill. She inhaled the hot air, filling her lungs with the musky scent of pines; a refreshing change from the musty AC air mixed with lemon-scented air freshener she'd been breathing for hours. She reached to push her sunglasses down off the top of her head and inhaled another lungful of forest air, counting treetops.

And then, suddenly, they were moving. Not just crawling along the expressway, but _really_ moving! Heero had kicked the car into gear, stepped on the gas and just veered off the road – speeding down the right-hand shoulder so fast her sunshades nearly flipped off her face.

"Heero!" She cried out and hurried to lean back into the car, whirling around to face him. Her hair billowed up in the wind gushing in. "What the hell are you doing!?" she shouted over the roar, pushing long locks of hair out of her face. She slammed her finger on the button to raise the window back up.

Heero just drove. They were speeding past many weary drivers still waiting on the road. Some of them honked angrily, waving their hands and most likely cursing them for daring to pull such a nasty stunt.

"Heero, we shouldn't––" she wanted to berate him, but then he turned to her with such a glitter in his eyes that she couldn't utter another sound. She hadn't seen this light shine in who knows how long.

"You said you were bored," he reminded her, smirking.

"But this is––!"

"Hang on!" he called and then turned the car sharply off the asphalt and onto a narrow dirt road leading into the thick pine-barrens. The car bucked, making Relena's teeth chatter. She clung to her seat, gaping at Heero in disbelief.

"Is this a shortcut?" she asked and he shook his head, that mischievous hint-of-a-smile still hovering over his lips.

"More like a detour."

"A detour _where?" s_ he turned to look out the windshield, frowning at the thick pinewoods streaking past them in a blur of green and brown. The rutted service road seemed better suited for a jeep or a small ATV. Surely, their rented SUV wasn't designed for off-road driving.

"Wow!" She exclaimed when they sped through a pothole that had her jumping an inch high in her seat. The car jolted loudly on impact, and something below made an alarming rattling noise. There went their deposit!

"Heero," she began, "Would you at least tell me where––"

"It's a surprise," he cut into her words, but none of his previous irritation was evident in his voice. He seemed to finally be enjoying himself, so who was she to rain on his parade?

 _The heck with it,_ she decided and leaned into her seat. "All right," she said, affecting satisfaction, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Surprise me, then."

"Roger that," Heero acknowledged and threw her a look, that playful glint still twinkling in his eyes. He shifted his gaze down, gesturing at her feet, as he added "But you're going to have to change your shoes."

She laughed. The phrase had become something of a running joke between them after their Valentine's date, and his way of telling her that she should brace herself for what was to come.

He drove further into the woods, their car bobbing and weaving its way through the rough terrain. There was nothing out there but acres upon acres of wood. The busy highway seemed a world away. They were deep into the Barrens now, surrounded by wilderness. The navigation app was useless under the dense cover of the trees, as was GPS reception. Heero had turned on a compass app instead. He seemed to know exactly where he was going.

But what could he possibly want to show her out here? Perhaps a secret cabin in the woods?  He knew about a billion and one of such remote places all around the world; safe houses he had used during the war. He liked these out-of-the-way hellholes. He took her to a hunting cabin up in the Catskills once, miles away from any sign of civilization. He hadn't planned to make a romantic getaway or anything – this was Heero, after all – although that weekend was probably the best sex they'd ever had (a much-welcomed improvement, considering they were still trying to get the hang of each other in bed). Romance aside, Heero had just wanted to rough it now and then and get away from the city. They did a lot of hiking, which was nice. She bet he would rather go up there again this weekend, instead of going to her mother's _..._

Hiking was a bit more difficult for Heero, as an amputee, but he had managed surprisingly well; except for the fact that his residual leg tended to shrink a lot for some reason. They had to make many stops so he could change his prosthetic socks; otherwise, he would get stuck bottoming out in his socket, which was painful. Downhill tracks were especially rough, because his foot was fixed at somewhat of a 90-degree angle and whenever he tried to go downhill on uneven- terrain, his foot tended to throw his knee into flexion, which made his footing very unstable. He had made a few embarrassing drops along the way, cursing like she had never heard him curse before. She was just glad he let her be there to catch him when he fell.

Relena was torn away from her reflections when Heero suddenly stopped the car in the middle of nowhere.

"We're here?" she marveled. There was nothing but trees all around.

"Almost," he said and unfastened his seatbelt. He stepped out of the car and wriggled his left leg a bit, grimacing. Relena also winced, feeling for him.

Heero stretched his arms up, and folded them one by one behind his head. Relena observed him, eyeing the pale patch of skin where his dark-grey T-shirt rode up to expose his flat abdomen. His physique might not be as muscular as it had been back in the day, but his figure was still toned, just a tad on the scrawny side. He exercised regularly now, working hard to regain muscle mass. She hoped he wasn't aiming for the impossible, trying to recapture the perfect build he once had. Sure, she had pined over him in her teens partly due to his incredible body, but she had done a lot of growing up since then. This was real life now. Real love and real compromise. Heero was imperfect in every way, and she loved him for it. He might seem like a broken toy soldier to some, but he was _her_ broken toy soldier – too precious to be tossed away.

He caught her staring, sending her a sharp side-glance as he lowered his arms slowly. He tugged his T-shirt back down.

"Oh, come on," she teased, "I was enjoying the view."

He scoffed, circling the vehicle to get to the front of the car. She watched his stiff walk through the windshield.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way," he said as he popped open the hood and secured it upright, obscuring her view.

Relena realized that he wasn't kidding when he'd said she should change her shoes. She was wearing a pair of white sandals to match her white sundress. Thankfully, she always packed for anything.

"Is everything alright?" she asked and finally stepped out of the car.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered from under the hood. She could hear him tinkering with something, before adding an impatient " _Shoes_."

She took a whiff of his scent as he circled the car again, walking past her briskly – a heady blend of deodorant, with a touch of sweat, mixed with the earthy fragrance of fresh pines. She was addicted to the very smell of him. Smiling to herself, Relena turned around just as Heero opened the trunk. He leaned in and began rummaging inside.

She joined him, and rested her hand on his shoulder. Heero shrugged it off, busy.

Opening the small gym bag he had packed for the weekend, he emptied it out on the trunk floor: a change of clothes, a bathroom utility bag, and his prescription bottles. She was curious, but she knew better than to ask him questions while his mind was focused on a task. She'd find out soon enough.

She reached to open her own bag and retrieved a pair of sneakers, white socks already tucked inside.

Heero snatched a set of jumper cables and threw them into the small gym bag. As she changed her shoes, Heero slung the bag over his shoulder and then reached to take a small tool kit and a pair of thick work gloves. He made his way around the car again – tool kit in hand. Something _was_ wrong with the car!

She hurried to change her shoes and went to join him by the open hood. He already had the gloves on and was using a wrench to loosen the nut on the negative terminal of their car battery. It looked like he was going to disconnect it. Did they have a spare battery or something? She was confused.

"Heero?"

"Get some water," he said and moved to disconnect the positive terminal. Suppressing a sigh, Relena simply nodded and went to fetch some from the small cooler they kept in the backseat. She returned just as he removed the car battery.

"Heero," she tried again, "why are you taking the car apart?"

"We're going to need it," he replied and placed the car battery in his gym bag, along with the jumper cables.

"Please tell me we'll be back for the car," she begged him. It was a rental, for god's sake.

"We'll be back for the car," Heero droned and zipped the bag shut. Relena just hoped his idea of a detour was better than his idea of a joke.

He turned to her, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat away from under his nose. She smiled softly when he smeared a streak of grease on his cheek in the process. She had the urge to clean the smudge off with some spit on her finger, but Heero absolutely hated it when she mothered him. And anyway, it was cute.

"Ready?" he asked, all business-like.

"Lead the way," she told him, smiling widely.

Heero nodded and secured the bag across his shoulder. Turning off the road, he guided her into the woods. She tried to enjoy the scenery while they walked, knowing any attempt at conversation would be useless. Heero was in full _"mission mode"_ – not to be disturbed.

They hiked through the pinewoods for at least another mile or so. The landscape lost its appeal soon enough. It was mostly green pine needles above and dry brown pine needles below, a few pinecones here and there, and not much else. Relena sipped water from the bottle every once in a while, instead of trying to engage Heero in conversation. They walked side by side, keeping a comfortable distance from each other. They weren't really the _lovey-dovey_ type (although, if he ever did want to hold hands, she would be happy to). Heero had innate aversion to touch, but they also knew how to show affection when the time felt right, more often than not, in the sanctuary of her small Queens apartment.

He came over often. They probably never would have gotten so close if he hadn't been on leave for three months. She liked to think that she had played a strong supporting role in his rehabilitation. Unfortunately, now that Heero was back to work, it was getting harder and harder to find the time. His boss demanded that he'd work long hours, and assigned him to most of the dirty work. He had a lot to prove.

They barely saw each other anymore. She was also very busy with her MA studies at NYU and her intern-job at the UN. These days, it felt like they were mostly "ticking boxes together": _'hello'_ , _'how was your day?'_ , _'what should we have for dinner?'_ and then straight to bed, falling into an exhausted slumber even before their heads hit the pillow. She often felt as though they were chasing their own tail in an exhausting daily race getting them nowhere. One way she had found to help them keep sane, and simultaneously reconnect, was by following a tip she had encountered in some shameful magazine, about a twenty-second full-body hug. Every evening, when they met after work and/or school, they hugged for a full twenty seconds. Heero thought it was stupid, but then she backed it up with some science, telling him that when people hug for twenty seconds or more, it triggers a release of oxytocin in the brain, which allows them to feel relaxed and loved, forming a positive connection with each other.

Heero had treated the _"ceremonial hug nonsense"_ (as he described it) with great sarcasm at first, only doing it because she had insisted. However, since they'd been sticking with the silly ritual for a few months now, she assumed he found it just as nourishing as she did. Pressed body-to-body, she could feel his heartbeat and sense the calm coming over him as the seconds ticked by idly. Sometimes, he'd melt against her, resting his head on her shoulder and allow another twenty seconds to go by in perfect silence. On days when they didn't get to meet or hug, she actually craved their embarrassing little habit. Looking at him walk by her side, Relena wondered if he did too.

Heero was using his phone to navigate with the compass app. He was leading them to a certain set of coordinates, but she had no idea where. She followed him silently, looking around for anything that might hint at their destination. Every tree looked exactly like the other. It was easy to get lost out here. If Heero's phone were to give out for some reason, there was a very slim chance they would be able to navigate their way out of the Barrens. There wasn't even a decent clearing where one could see the stars to navigate, and moonlight wouldn't reach under the pines.

"Ever heard of Hansel and Gretel?" she asked, just to break the silence for a bit.

"No," Heero replied briskly, looking at his phone as he navigated through the tall trees. "Friends of yours?"

She resisted the urge to laugh. "More like childhood friends," she replied, smirking.

"Hn," he uttered – clearly not getting it. She rolled her eyes behind his back. He didn't even care to ask. Such was Heero when he was busy doing just about anything.

Finally, they arrived at a forest clearing surrounding a long and narrow pond, no bigger than two Olympic swimming pools. It was stunning, the water a glittering-blue and the trees a lovely lush-green, but Heero didn't dwell long enough to enjoy the view. He looked at his phone again, surveyed the area a moment, and then led her around the small lake.

"Do you like fishing?" she made another attempt at conversation.

"Not really," he said, walking a step ahead of her.

"Hunting?"

"No."

And that was it.

They walked around the oval shaped pond, until they reached the narrowest point. There was a small hill sticking out of the landscape a few feet from the shore. Greenery covered the bell-shaped mound. Heero's stride hastened as he headed towards it. She followed, picking up her pace as well. She studied the unusual hill as they approached. It stood out unnaturally in the otherwise flat surrounding. Its symmetric shape suggested it was manmade.

Her suspicions were confirmed when they reached the small hill. It was a bit bigger than an average toolshed, but not large enough to contain much of anything. Heero reached to clear some of the shrubs away at the side facing the lake. He dug both hands into the dirt, shoveling it away, until he unearthed a metal door – built vertically into the side of the hill facing the lake.

Relena stood a few feet behind him while he worked. She watched, awed, as Heero opened a small metal box to the side of the dirty door, revealing a digital keypad and a retina scanner. He leaned his face in, and, just like that, the door unlocked with a hiss of air pressure releasing.

"Oh, wow," she uttered under her breath, taking a step back. With life being so ordinary now, she had almost forgotten that her boyfriend used to be James Bond material. With a history of being both a militia pilot for the CLO and a Preventer CTU operative[3], it shouldn't be surprising that Heero could pull off this kind of secret- agent extravaganza.

"What is this place?" she asked, stepping closer carefully.

Heero didn't turn to face her and was already walking through the open door. "A secret hideout."

Relena clenched her fists, trying to contain the irritation. He usually never stated the obvious, but he was being purposely annoying, letting her know he didn't appreciate the interrogation. Trust was crucial to Heero, and a real deal breaker if mishandled. He resented any hinting towards her mistrusting him in any way. She was expected to follow him blindly, trusting that he knew what he was doing. No questions asked.

They stepped into the long and narrow structure embedded into the hill, Relena following a step behind Heero. The floor was slanted into a moderate slope leading underground. A bunker, maybe?

It was dark, but just enough sunlight poured in through the open doors to help her see the way down the metal catwalk. The air was stale, but not moldy. The inside seemed to have been perfectly preserved by the air- pressure lock. The corridor was wide enough to fit two or three people and rose a few feet above them.

She wondered how long this place had been left sealed underground. In addition, how did Heero know about its existence out here, deep in the Barrens? He could have learned about it through his work with Preventer, but then again – that eye scanner accepted his retina scan. Did this place belong to the Preventers? Why weren't there any guards posted here? There was a heavily guarded airbase on the other side of the Barrens. It used to be an OZ base during the war, but now Preventer was using it, along with the US Air Force. So why hide a bunker a few miles away from a military base? Surely, whatever was in there could be kept inside the base, no?

Daylight became scarce the lower they descended into the underground tunnel. Heero turned on the LED flashlight on his phone to light the way. Relena observed his firm backside while he walked, eyeing the heavy gym bag he carried over his shoulder, where he had placed the jumper cables and car battery. She wondered if he was expecting to find a vehicle inside. Back in the car, Heero did say that he'd be grateful for a motorcycle. One could definitely fit in here. Maybe they would need to change the battery because it had been sitting here for so long?

A few moments later, they reached the end of the incline, where the narrow passageway widened a couple of feet on each side, enough to accommodate something large and leave enough room to circle around it. The small LED light on Heero's phone was barely enough to illuminate the room (hangar?). He used it to search along the concrete walls, until he found a metal box with a switch inside. He flipped it on, and strong yellow lights sparked to life above them. Two out of three lamps flickered for a moment before dying out, but one remained operational, shedding enough dim light to expose the large, oval-shaped, blue... something ... at the center of a long narrow hall.

At a first glance, Relena could have sworn she was looking at a gigantic blue jellybean. But at a closer inspection, she noted that there was something inside the slightly transparent blue crust. It was some kind of... She leaned in closer, squinting, then pulled back in surprise. It was a jet ski. A sleek, space-age-looking kind of seed-shaped water-scooter-ish craft, encrusted inside a huge blue jellybean. Seriously.

"Heero...?" she hesitated to ask, but it was about time he'd give her some answers. "What on Earth is this... _thing?_ "

"Our new ride," he said and placed his gym bag on the cement floor. He knelt next to it and opened the zipper. "Courtesy of the CLO." He smirked slyly while taking the car battery out of the bag. He placed it next to the giant blue _"jelly bean"_ , and reached for the jumper cables next.

"You mean this thing has been sitting here for the last decade?"

"Longer, I'd imagine," Heero replied simply, unwinding the bundle of jumper cables, "But it can't be that long, since the lock accepted my retina scan. Means I was already in the system."

"Which would make it... how long, exactly?" she asked warily, standing a few feet away.

He paused for a second, thinking, before he resumed setting up the jumper cables. He connected one of the alligator clips to the battery's negative terminal. "Around eighteen years," he stated quietly, head bowed low to focus on his work.

That would put him at about eight years old when he had first joined the Colony militia, Relena deduced. She always assumed he had started at an early age, considering he was an MS pilot by the time he was fifteen, but she had no idea he had enlisted when he was just a little boy. She hoped maybe one day he'd share how that came to be. Meanwhile, she'd have to settle for scraps of information handed to her randomly.

Choosing not to pry any further, or else he might bolt, Relena allowed him to work in peace. She watched as he rose to his feet and turned to face the blue-crust-thingy encasing the craft. He jammed both opposite ends of the jumper wires forcefully into the translucent blue crust. It caved much like a jelly bean would, the alligator clips sinking into the malleable surface.

"Step back," he warned and picked up the last remaining end of the jumper cable, preparing to connect it to the battery's positive port. He waited until Relena moved to stand against the wall, and then closed the electric circuit.

There was a loud crackling noise and a flashing spark of electricity as a small electric charge was emptied into the blue jelly-like crust. At first, nothing happened, but then after a second or so, the surface fractured all over and began to disintegrate, crumbling in small pieces to the floor. Relena watched, stupefied.

Now unveiled, she could better see the perfectly- preserved white craft (she assumed that's what the blue crust was for). It really did resemble a long jet ski. It also had a pointed bow and a canopy over a stick controller, like a fighter jet, and a single engine at the back. What must have been its port and starboard were wider than that of a normal water scooter, more like narrow wings. She had never seen anything quite like it before. Then again, no one had seen a Gundam before the CLO sent those menacing machines down to raise havoc on Earth...

Heero stepped towards the strange-looking craft. He ran his hand over its smooth white surface, almost like a gentle caress. His features softened with a wistful expression, one she had never seen before. He was beautiful; a fallen angel who had just found his wings again.

"What is... this thing?" Relena uttered in awe, moving closer to join him.

"A PSC," he replied and dusted blue crystal-like crumbs off the wings. "Personal Space Craft. Used for re-entry."

"A spaceship _?!_ " She gasped.

"No _,_ " Heero corrected, his words clipped and emphasized as he repeated his explanation: "a PSC. Dropped from orbit. For re-entry." He turned to face the craft fully, placing both hands on the wing so he could leverage himself up towards the cockpit. "It can't leave the atmosphere," he explained, grunting when he pushed himself up, "Operatives used it to touch-down undetected," he continued when finally standing on the narrow wing, rubbing his hands together to dust off the crystalized crumbs. "It doesn't register on radar, so they could use it for short flights when necessary."

Relena looked up to face him. "So, it's an aircraft."

"More or less," he dismissed her assessment with a wave of his hand and turned to open the canopy. "It has limited flight capabilities, but enough to navigate through the atmosphere."

She smiled slyly, crossing her arms over her chest while looking up at Heero standing on the wing. "And it can take us to Montauk in like... what? Five minutes?"

"Ten," he smiled, practically beaming; "Fifteen tops." She had never seen his face so radiant before. He was loving this, and she was loving him for it. It was wonderful to finally see him happy.

"Well worth the detour, then!" She laughed and tried to climb up on the wing. Heero reached his hand down to help her, pulling her up. There wasn't much room on the small wing, so they had to stand really close, pressed together chest-to-chest with their noses nearly bumping.

 _Time for a twenty-second hug_ , she decided and wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him even closer. He realized what she was doing and encircled her waist in his arms, leaning into her. She closed her eyes, inhaling him deeply.

"I thought it was your job to locate and report these kind of places," she whispered in his ear. Some of their most intimate conversations were done this way; the oxytocin at work, most likely.

"It is," he confirmed, moving his head back a little so he could look at her. She smiled in affection when her eyes fell on the streak of grease on his cheek.

"And you didn't report this one out of –" she smeared some spit on her finger and cleaned away the grease " _–_ spite _?_ "

He wrinkled his nose at her intrusive touch. "Sentimental value," he muttered, wiping her saliva off his cheek.

She chuckled quietly, a sound somewhere between amusement and nervousness. She didn't know if he was merely joking, or if there was some dark story behind his meager words. With Heero, it was impossible to tell. She knew better than to ask, though. If he had wanted to, he would have elaborated his reasons.

A few more seconds passed before Heero broke away from the hug. He carried on business-as-usual, as he always did after their ritual hug (it still embarrassed him), and turned to climb into the open cockpit. The small craft contained a single chair, a dashboard full of instruments, and a center control stick between the leg space, equipped with a number of electrical control switches within easy finger reach. He settled into the pilot's seat, sliding his legs into place on both sides of the center stick controller.

He ran his hands over the bulky control column, as if appreciating a fine work of art.

"This is one of the last strongholds," he murmured and turned his head up to face her, a sorrowful glimmer in his eyes. "There aren't many of these places left on Earth." He reached his hand out, inviting her in. "This one happens to be close by... so I kept it."

She stood there a moment, gazing at his outstretched hand. She was touched that he chose to share his reasons with her, and she wanted to respond properly.

"Preventer is erasing your past," she let out sadly, a heavy feeling settling onto her heart. She never thought about it this way before, always being an avid supporter of Earth's disarmament, but all these secret weapon stashes the CLO had left behind, they were all a link to Heero's past. He had been raised by the militia to fight for their cause – to liberate the Colonies – and now Preventer was hunting down and destroying every physical trace of his legacy. The Gundams were gone, Mobile Suit production had all but been banned on Earth and in Space, so what did he have left? He had no family, no roots to connect him to his past. He had nothing but years of indoctrination drilled into his head – training he was expected to discard in his adult life.

Everything Heero had known, everything he had done, was gone. His entire way of life had been forsaken in peacetime, leaving him with nothing to hang onto in his new struggle to adjust. Disillusioned, it was no wonder he had succumbed to alcoholism. Liquor, however destructive, had been something to hold onto, even if it was just an illusion of comfort. She hoped he considered her a better and more supportive alternative.

"It must make you feel so... obsolete," she offered her insight, hesitant as she spoke the words in a quiet tone. Heero retracted his offered hand and turned to face the dashboard again. He shrugged, heaving a sigh.

"I guess," he mumbled, toying with the pilot stick, "It's like... like they're erasing my life's work, or something."

She nodded in understanding. "So, you kept a few... trinkets."

He smiled faintly, nodding his head in confirmation. "More like," he added as an afterthought, his fingers hovering gently over the controls, "deleted them from every database out there."

"Heero," she berated softly and he looked up, a somewhat guilty-looking smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Nothing dangerous," he assured her weakly; he sounded tired. And when she didn't look convinced, he added, more confidently, "Really."

Relena dropped the admonishing act, replacing it with an affectionate smile. "Well, as long as you're not hiding some nuclear missile silo somewhere... I guess I can let it slide."

"Or, I can silence you for knowing too much," he joked, deadpan, and offered her his hand again to help her into the cockpit.

She snorted, dismissing his empty threat. "Where did I hear that one before?" she rolled her eyes and reached to take his hand. He actually chuckled this time and pulled her towards him when she climbed into the cockpit. She enjoyed this carefree side of him.

She had to sit in his lap, because there was not enough room to accommodate two passengers.  It was kind of... sexy. Feeling the heat of his groin against her bottom, his firm torso pressed against her backside and his arms wrapped around her as he fastened the safety harness around them... She was beginning to feel a little excited.

"Ready?" His breath brushed against her ear when he spoke, and she shivered.

"Ready as I'll ever be..."

"You'll have to be my co-pilot," he said, his arms circling her body to reach the controls.

"What?!" She exclaimed, panicking slightly; "No! I don't even––"

"Relax," he told her, flipping a few switches here and there; "I'll be doing most of the work. You just..." – he tapped on his left thigh – "help me out a little. My foot slips..."

"Oh," she let out, feeling foolish. After moving her feet around a little, she discovered four pedals below the dashboard – which was one more than a manual transmission car. Despite being a left leg below-knee amputee, Heero could drive a stick, but he still preferred driving an automatic. He couldn't feel his leg while driving a manual transmission and sometimes his prosthetic foot slipped off the clutch to press on the brakes. Three pedals was doable, with practice, but four could get tricky.

She turned to look over her shoulders, meeting his eyes. "You take the right, I take the left?"

He nodded his head to confirm. "Press when I tell you to," he instructed while adjusting the controls, pressing buttons and flipping all sorts of switches. " _One_ is for the pedal on the left and _Two_ is for the one to its right."

"Aye, captain," she acknowledged in a mock-official tone, smiling as she turned to face the front again. She placed her feet into position, one on each pedal.

Dear Lord. As if it wasn't bad enough that they will be showing up a few hours late to her mother's, how could she ever explain showing up in this thing?!

*          *          *

 

[1] See here for the [prequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000750).

[2] CLO: Colony Liberation Organization

[3] CTU: Counter-terrorist Unit


	2. Chapter 2

"This is – **_AMAZING!!!_** " Relena shrilled as their small craft launched out of the underground hangar with a thundering roar. They swept across the lake and soared over the treetops, Relena calling out in delight, bouncing on Heero's lap. Soon, the Pine Barrens were just a vast patch of green and brown way down below, and they were gliding amongst the clouds.

"Two," Heero said as he moved his arms around her to work the control column between their legs. Baffled, she tried to decipher his odd request.

"Relena," he rebuked just as she recalled what they had agreed upon before takeoff.

"Yes, sorry," she mumbled and pressed her right foot on the pedal under the console; her left foot was ready to press on the pedal to the far left if he said 'one'.

"Pay attention," he muttered and used the control stick to steady the PSC. "You're sitting in a twenty-something year old craft, cruising at four hundred knots and over two thousand feet off the ground. Caution is advised."

Relena laughed nervously. "Yes, I know," she said, "It's just so beautiful up here..." She turned to look out the canopy window, mesmerized by the view as they flew over the South Fork peninsula.

Countless vehicles still stood in a dense column across the I-495. The craft climbed higher, leaving the road far behind as it passed over a small town at the edge of the Barrens. A colorful checkered blanket spread across the peninsula – ample fields in different shades of green, yellow and brown. They flew past a large body of water splitting the land, turning south. The fields were gone, replaced by vast green forestlands dotted with blue ponds. Heero made a beeline towards the coast, probably to avoid detection. They flew along the shoreline, the Hamptons streaking below in a string of seaside communities and long stretches of beach. The interior farmland was filled with small villages, lovely countryside homes squared away behind boxwood hedges. The closer they got to the edge of the narrow peninsula, to Montauk, the fewer structures littered the green forestland.

"It's all so beautiful from up here..." Relena mumbled thoughtfully, sighing, "So quiet."

"Hn," Heero's voice hummed in her ear as he leaned his chin over her shoulder to look at the console. She shifted sideways to make him some room. The tiny cockpit was not designed for two, and even though she was sitting in his lap, it was still too crowded to move comfortably. Pressed almost face-to-face, she studied his features, trying to resist a persistent smile as she noted his tense and utterly concentrated expression. She wondered if he had ever taken the time to appreciate all this beauty when he had piloted Wing across the heavens, or was he always so mission-oriented?

"Have you ever just... looked at it?" The question slipped out of her mouth before she even made a conscious decision to ask him about it.

Heero's forehead creased with a frown. "At what?" he asked, still focused on the dashboard, eyes front.

"Just... Earth. You know. While you were piloting. Have you ever taken the time to appreciate the view?"

This time, he turned to her, somewhat startled.

She laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Heero, it was over ten years ago. It's okay if you did."

He scoffed, turning back to the console. He pressed a few buttons and adjusted a couple of knobs, before resuming his grip on the control stick between her legs; his lean and muscular arms wrapped around her tightly as he steadied his hold on the controller.

"Just once," he said, omitting the exposition as usual. "I switched Wing into bird-mode, even though it was unnecessary." His eyes stared directly ahead, gazing out the windshield. "I wanted to see it with my own eyes," he confessed in a whisper. "Just once. Without the monitors."

Relena nodded slowly; she understood. "How long ago?"

Heero hesitated before answering quietly. "...the day you were made queen."[1]

Her heart jolted at the memory. She didn't quite know how to respond.

"I had to leave Sanq. It didn't matter where. I didn't even have a flight plan. I just... took off. Hid between the clouds. It was... peaceful... there."

Tears threatened to sting her eyes, so she bit her lower lip to fight them off. She inhaled deeply and turned to face portside to look out the window, her eyes seeking the pristine beaches below. She hated thinking back on those days.

"And... and you haven't done it since?" she asked, searching for a distraction. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, looking up at the clouds sweeping above the canopy.

"It's been a long time since I've piloted anything," he murmured, ruffling his messy bangs away from his eyes.

"Really?" she marveled, shifting her head aside to look at his face. "Not even for Preventer?"

Heero nodded. "It's part of their DDR policy – unofficial,"[2] he explained, wriggling a little to get to the console and flip a few switches. She had a feeling he was only running a useless diagnostic, so he would have something to do while speaking about issues he would rather avoid. They never talked much about his work before he had moved to New York.

"They don't let us do what we're good at," he sighed; "so we won't get _too_ good at it, I guess."

She looked up again, rolling her eyes at the clouds. "Talk about paranoia," she snorted. "That doesn't make any sense."

He shrugged, her head moving up and down with his shoulder. "I'm a good pilot, so they put me on infantry. Your basic foot soldier, until I stepped into the wrong house in the wrong village and lost a foot."

Relena straightened back up and whirled her head around to look at him. This was the first time he had divulge any information about his leg. "Landmine?" she asked tensely.

"Yeah, a hidden charge," he uttered with a sigh and bowed his head to avoid her prying eyes. "Peacekeeping mission in Lebanon. Air support blew it and five agents died. The rest of us barely made it out alive."

She stared at the dangling locks of brown hair concealing his lowered face, unsure of how she should respond, if at all. She had no trouble reading between the lines. If Heero had been allowed to pilot – to do what he did best – then maybe air support could have saved those five lives, and he would still be able-bodied today.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's not fair."

Heero returned his attention to the control stick.

"Yeah, well, at least Preventer got what they wanted – one less combatant to worry about."

"Heero," she scolded softly, but he cut in.

"It's okay," he said, gripping the joystick tightly. "I'm over it."

He wasn't, but she didn't say anything.

"It's a stupid policy," she said it for him, concluding the conversation. Heero shrugged, not caring to repeat what he had already said – that it was an unofficial policy. Relena heaved a troubled sigh and leaned back against him, her head tucked under his chin. She gazed out the window above, her eyes glazing over as she sunk into deep thought. She had much to do once she got back into politics.

Roughly ten minutes later, they completed a U-turn flight around the pointy edge of the peninsula and were coming around towards Montauk Airport. Alarmed, Relena turned to Heero with a questioning frown.

"I thought the whole idea was to keep it stealthy," she pointed out, quirking an eyebrow. Heero smirked, but didn't say anything. Others might have tried to reassure her with a careless _'don't worry_ ', or a ballsy _'I've got this'_ , but he just expected her to trust him blindly. Which she did, so why did she keep questioning him?

"Two, then one – a long steady press," Heero instructed, his quiet voice shattering her train of thought. This time, she didn't hesitate or asked any stupid questions; she just pressed her feet on the pedals as he had ordered. Her whole body tensed readily.

"Ready?"

"I think so..."

Looking straight ahead through the canopy, she spotted a long narrow pond close to the runway, less than a mile away from the marina, which meant they were close to her mother's beach house. Thick trees and vegetation surrounded the pond. By their approach-angle, she could tell they were headed straight to the hidden body of water, instead of veering sideways towards the runway.

"Press. Now," Heero commanded and she pushed her feet down hard on the pedals. Heero moved his arms around her, working the controls swiftly as he readied for landing. They were getting close to sea level now, flying low over the ocean. She didn't know how the PSC's stealth systems worked, but she assumed they were flying low to avoid detection, at least by any eyewitnesses.

Heero flew them straight into the treetops, threading the small seed-shaped craft smoothly into the woods. He maneuvered the old PSC through the forest like there were no trees. Relena was in awe. Heero was exceptional, no doubt about it. It had been over a decade since he had last sat in the pilot's seat. He never ceased to amaze her.

She cheered when he landed the craft in the water in a matter of seconds. It was a perfect landing. Now she understood why the PSC's design resembled a jet ski, and why it had been stored next to a lake; it was meant to land in the water.

Heero guided the craft to shore. The bow slid gracefully into the soft earth at the banks of the lake, bringing the craft into a gentle halt. The engines powered down with a dimming whir, and silence fell all around. Only then Relena realized just how noisy it had been inside the cockpit. Her ears were ringing.

She felt Heero's warm hands across her lap as he reached to unfasten the safety harness embracing them both. He reached for the dashboard and flipped a bunch of switches. The canopy opened with an airy hiss. A gush of fresh air burst into the stuffy cockpit, carrying the scent of the forest. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, and rose to her feet while stretching her arms over her head. It felt wonderful. A pleasant summer breeze swept across the blue pond and fluttered through her silky sundress. She raised a hand to push her tousled hair out of her eyes.

When she opened them, she was looking at green woods surrounding a sparkling lake. She took a moment to appreciate the sight, until she felt Heero shift behind her. He was still sitting; there wasn't enough room for both of them to stand – she was taking all of the space between the chair and the controls. Her eyes caught a slight movement below; he was wriggling his leg, which was still bent under the consoles. _It must be killing him_ , she realized sadly. Not only had he endured a three-hour ride cramped behind the wheel of a car, he had then hiked through the woods and also piloted a freaking aircraft run by pedal! Of course his leg was hurting.

"Here," she said softly, turning to climb out of the cockpit. Heero flung a hand up to stop her, grabbing her gently by the wrist.

"Wait," he said, and she spun back, confused. He looked up at her from his seat, and his lips curved up in a tiny gesture of a smile. He pulled her towards him. She settled back on his lap, facing him. He kissed her, his kiss fervent and sloppy – full of needy heat. She kissed back just as passionately, wiggling in his lap as she moved her legs to straddle his hips without breaking the contact. His hands were all over her, canvasing her body with eager strokes, sneaking under her dress. Her own hands fiddled with his jeans, eager fingers working to unbutton and unzip it. He growled into her neck when she peeled the fabric away, exposing firm evidence of the reason behind his earlier discomfort. He pulled her in for another kiss, their foreheads smacking together clumsily. She laughed.

Fumbling within the small confines of the PSC cockpit, they enjoyed hot blunderous sex right there on the pilot's seat. Panting, she tugged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it out the cockpit. Their sweaty flesh clashed with an audible slap. Heero smacked his knee on the dashboard, trying to brace himself to gain more leverage. He hissed, wriggling his bruised leg. She laughed, but then he bucked his hips up and she whacked her head on the open canopy. He smirked, and she laughed even harder, rubbing the sore back of her head.

It was the best sex they had ever had. Fun and carefree, full of life and emotion... all the things they had been missing lately. All it took was putting him back in the pilot's seat. A real no brainer, in retrospect. Heero was still flying inside, soaring towards her with unbridled passion. She moved against him eagerly, panting and sweating, calling out, uninhibited.

Satiated beyond endurance, Relena collapsed against him listlessly, reduced to a heap of sweaty flesh against Heero's nude chest, which heaved with labored breath. She rested her head on his shoulder, her breasts pressed against him. She still wore her bra, even though he had tried to rip it off at one point. She had stopped him, her licentiousness only going so far. She wouldn't feel as good with her breasts exposed.

She took a moment to catch her breath, listening to his quiet panting as he did the same. His heart was pounding so hard she could feel it against her own chest. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and closed her eyes, focusing on the strong beating vibrating through his hot flesh in a hasty rhythm. His pulse was elevated and irregular, skipping a beat every now and then. Usually, his heart arrhythmia was rather harmless, although he did suffer from chest pains from time to time. She never asked what had caused it[3], but she was certain his drinking problem had only made it worse. Heero never denied it; he was aware that the deterioration was his own fault. _'It's not just literal,'_ he'd tell her, more often than not. _'I have a bad heart in all senses of the phrase'_.

_'I don't believe that',_ she'd argue. His heart could never be bad.

She pulled away; just a little, just enough to look at his handsome face, and smiled at him. He looked up, his expression strangely blank. She didn't mind. She enjoyed watching him from this angle, seated on his lap. He would often let her, and whole minutes would go by in pleasant silence as they studied each other. Light and shadow played across his sharp features. She spotted a faint beauty mark on his smooth left cheek, and smiled in affection. When she had first met him, his skin had been utterly unblemished, having lived in space until that point. However, years of living under Earth's sun had taken a small toll on his perfect skin. It only added to his beauty. She adored his imperfections; they were what made him unique, and loving them made him uniquely hers.

She looked into his eyes. An Asian man with blue eyes. She could spend hours gazing into his eyes and find another shade of blue within the iris every time she did. It was a genetic mutation; one in a million, probably. Those strikingly vivid blue eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him. They had captured her heart from the very beginning. Not just their color, but the sheer intensity of the fire that burnt inside. Heero's eyes were an ocean of endless depths, yet looking at them was more like gazing into the sun. After a while, it hurt and you had to look away. But if one persevered and looked at them long enough, they revealed so much. And today, they rewarded her with a smile. A genuine smile, not just a little tug at the corner of his lips, but a full-fledged honest-to-god smile that shone brightly in his eyes. It was so beautiful. She couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" she let out, chuckling sheepishly. He was looking at her funny, that secretive smile on his lips, and for the life of her, she could not recall ever seeing him quite so charming before.

Heero simply continued looking at her, eyes vivid and raw under the bright sunshine flooding the cockpit. It was almost eerie, and it was making her nervous.

"What is it?" she asked again, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear, just so she could break eye contact for a second. When she looked back at him, he was still studying her with that mystified look in his eyes.

"Heero, you're freaking me out," she mumbled, and his smile only grew in response; like he was in on some secret she was completely clueless about.

"Seiki," he then said, quietly. So quiet, she had nearly missed it.

"What?" she let out dumbly, confused.

He smiled again, shaking his head a little. "Seiki," he repeated, slowly this time. His eyes never wavered from hers. "My name," he clarified; "The one I was born under. It's Seiki."

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Did he just––?

"That's as far back as I can possibly go," he explained, speaking softly. Her entire world narrowed down to the bright blue light in his eyes, to the tender honesty she suddenly saw there.

He was referring to their conversation back in the car, she realized, when she had asked him how far he was willing to go when disclosing his past to her. He had said _'we'll see'_ , yet now he was giving her his real name, going back as far as square one. She grinned, moved beyond words. This was practically a love confession, wasn't it?

She kissed him, stealing the breath from his mouth, and sucking it hungrily into her lungs. Her arms snaked around him tightly, pulling him close as she deepened the kiss. Such desperate wanton behavior was not in her nature, but she could not help herself. She loved him so much – she was never letting go.

*          *          *

Their disembarkment was delayed on account of another zealous quickie, after which they had to search the vicinity of the PSC for their discarded clothing. By the time they were ready to get moving, the sun was already making its way towards the horizon; it was late in the afternoon. Checking his navigation app, Heero determined that they had about a two-mile walk to her mother's place. Relena was tired and hungry, and she imagined he felt the same. She offered him the bottle of water she had taken for the road (as per his instruction), and watched him drink eagerly, tilting his head back as his Adam's Apple bobbed up and down his slender white neck.

The walk through the woods and into town was fairly short, however it did take them a while; they were exhausted. Heero kept lagging behind a few steps and she found herself slowing down every now and then to match his pace. His T-shirt was soaked dark grey with sweat under his armpits and at the center of his chest. He was panting quietly through his mouth, and his hair clung to his forehead. He seemed pale, even under the golden afternoon sun.

Her mind flashed back to a few hours ago, to the two of them standing by the open trunk of their rented car in the middle of the Barrens. Heero had emptied his bag into the trunk to make room for the battery and jumper cables. His prescription bottles had spilled from the bag along with his change of clothes – all of which were now lying in an SUV's trunk in the woods.

"Heero," she gasped, her head shooting up in his direction. "Your meds."

"It's okay," he let the words out breathlessly, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. "It's only one night," he assured her, adding a quiet "we'll go back for the car tomorrow."

She studied his clammy face carefully. Heero either ignored her or didn't register her concern. He trudged onwards, looking ahead at nothing in particular. She reached for his hand, slipping her palm around his, and squeezed tightly. It took him a moment, but he squeezed back.

They stepped out of the woods hand-in-hand, and walked onto a main road.

"Just another half a mile or so," Heero said and let go of her hand to point down the street. "That way."

*          *          *

They arrived at her mother's beach house by the time evening was starting to fall. The impressive villa sat right on the beach, overlooking a stunning ocean sunset. A wide porch surrounded the house, facing the beach. A narrow staircase led from the house down to the sandy shore. Her mother opened the door as soon as they stepped onto the creaking wooden steps leading up to the front porch. Clearly, the woman had been worried, waiting for their arrival. Relena thought perhaps she should have called...

"Relena!" Her mother exclaimed as she stepped outside to greet them. Relena would have rushed over to her, but she remained by Heero's side as they climbed slowly up the five steps leading to the house. Heero was utterly fatigued. His bleary eyes kept fluttering shut and he could barely carry himself upright as he shuffled up the steps. His stride carried a slight limp; his residual leg must have bottomed out in the socket, which caused him great pain. All she wanted was for him to sit somewhere and rest, instead of exchanging pleasantries with her mother.

"Mother," she greeted with a strained smile as they approached. "I'm so sorry we're late."

Her mother, immaculate in her pristine outfit and meticulous updo, paused to study them as they stood before her. She notably ran her eyes up and down each of them, starting with Relena, and ending with Heero. Standing close to her boyfriend, Relena was painfully aware of his sticky appearance; he even smelled of sweat. She imagined she didn't look much better, her hair and clothes disheveled in a very unladylike manner. She pulled the straps of her dress up, even though they hadn't slipped. Some first impression they were making...

"Dear Lord," her mother gasped in shock. "Relena, what happened?"

"Uh, we... we ran into some car trouble," she hurried to explain. "Our car broke down a few miles down the road. We had to walk."

"Oh my," her mother said and then turned to Heero, giving him another quick once-over. If it bothered him, he didn't let it show. He stretched his hand forward for a handshake.

"Heero Yuy," he introduced himself in a steady voice, holding his hand outstretched towards her mother. Relena immediately recognized the stiff tone of voice in which he spoke when he was trying to "act normal" (whatever _that_ meant). Ha! She knew it! He was nervous about meeting her mother!

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Darlian," he concluded, nodding his head in greeting. Her mother looked at his hand for a second longer than necessary, no doubt trying to decide whether or not she approved of his dark and brooding good looks, before shaking it.

"Please, call me Marlene," she said, and Relena noted how Heero's eyes narrowed slightly when he noted her mother's Dutch accent, which she lacked entirely. More than just a generational gap, it was a painful reminder that Marlene Darlian was not her real mother.

"And the pleasure is all mine," her mother added with a well-practiced smile. Relena was grateful she hadn't winced at the touch of Heero's sweaty hand. If it was anything less than perfect, her mother usually had something to say about it.

_This weekend is going to be a complete disaster,_ she thought to herself, struggling to keep smiling.

"I'm sorry we kept you waiting, mother," she apologized again. Her mother sent her a quick glance, and then smiled graciously.

"The important thing is that you're both here now," she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Well then," she offered pleasantly, turning back to Heero with a smile. "Come on in," she gestured at the door, "I was just about to get started on dinner. Why don't you" – she looked him over again – "freshen up, a little, before supper?"

"That'd be great!" Relena hurried to agree, laughing like an idiot. She caught Heero's curious side-glance. He had never seen just how stupid she could get around her mother. He was in for quite a show.

*          *          *

Her mother had prepared a room on the second floor; a gorgeous master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom, an ocean view and a private balcony. Heero was drawn to the first seat he found – a luxurious comfy-chair by the balcony door – and plopped onto it heavily, stretching his long legs forward and letting his hands dangle from the armrests. He exhaled and reached a hand up to support his head against it. He closed his eyes, slumping deeper into the chair. Relena winced in sympathy.

"Some day, huh?" she commented with a timid smile as she approached him. He uttered something unintelligible under his breath – a useless _'hn'_ or an _'hmm'_ , or another one of his noncommittal grunts – his face hidden behind the palm of his hand. She knelt by the armchair and reached to untie his shoes.

"What are you doing?" he rasped, brows lowering.

"Making you comfortable," she replied simply, slipping his left shoe off the prosthetic leg.

"I'm too tired for that now," he muttered, pulling his leg away before she could take off his sock.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Which is why I want you to take a shower and get some rest before dinner," she clarified while untying the other shoe. She wrinkled her nose at the stench; his real foot smelled.

"Take your clothes off," she stood up, gesturing down at him with her head, "I'll throw them into the wash."

Still leaning his head against his hand, Heero's eyes darted up as much as they could under his frown. Relena scowled back at him. She didn't think she was being too fussy. It was just a matter of good manners to wash the sex off before sitting down to a family dinner. It wasn't as if she was trying to cram him in a top hat and tails here...

She tried to pacify him with a smile. He just snorted quietly and looked away; Relena could have sworn he had rolled his eyes at her. She held back a sigh. He understandably smelled. Was it so bad that she wanted him to soap up before dinner? She knew where his hands had been... Why was he making her into the bad guy here?

Sighing, she slouched her shoulders in defeat. "You know what, just do whatever," she muttered, turning to leave. "I'll be downstairs, helping mother with dinner."

When she came back to the room a few minutes later, carrying a jug of cold water, the armchair was empty. The shower was running behind a closed door. Relena smiled. He had left his dirty clothes piled on the floor.

*          *          *

A quick fifteen minutes wash cycle and then straight into the dryer. She hit the _"on"_ button before retiring upstairs to take a shower as well.

She made a stop by her mother's bedroom, entering the spacious walk-in closet in search of some clean clothes. She smiled when she recalled how her father had complained about installing such a costly fixture in their beach house, saying that they hardly ever went there on vacation, so why did she need such a large space for a wardrobe? Her mother's answer was to buy a second collection of clothing – for the both of them – and fill every shelf in her Hampton's walk-in closet that she visited _maybe_ once a year. Her father had just laughed at the absurdity of it all. He had always accepted his wife's odd quirks with good humor. Relena had admired that about him. He had taken everything in stride. In a way, Heero's cool mannerism reminded her of him, although she highly doubted Heero would have allowed such an impetuous waste of resources.

As she searched amongst her mother's many dresses, she noted a few of her father's clothes still hung on the hangers. She paused to hold the sleeve of one of his suits, and smiled wistfully. She raised the empty sleeve to her face and bestowed a gentle kiss on the edge of the cuff, as though to kiss his hand. She missed him dearly. What might it have been like if he were here today?

Sighing, she let go of her father's suit and turned back to choose a dress for the evening. She went for a simple light lavender dress with a clean cut that reached just below the knee. It was the most age-appropriate dress she could find in her mother's prestigious wardrobe.

Hazy golden light washed over the large master bedroom as the sun set beyond the balcony. She found Heero sleeping under the covers on the far end of the bed, facing away from the door. His prosthetic leg rested against the nightstand. She paused at the doorway and smiled, listening to him snore.

Chuckling to herself, she padded quietly towards the bathroom and closed the door behind her. It was a lavish room, with polished white tiles, baby-blue floors, and touches of gold. A beautiful fused-glass window let in natural light; stained glass in different shades of blue and green fused together to mirror the ocean waves.

She took her time in the shower, relishing in the hot water. It was early evening, and the sun was setting outside the stained-glass window. Bathed in warm sunset hues, Relena leaned her head back into the shower stream, her eyes fluttering shut as the water washed down her face.

A bright ray of golden twilight shattered as it hit the colorful glass, its bluish brilliance visible behind her closed eyelids. An idle smile curved her lips. That dazzling shine in Heero's eyes as he had veered their SUV off the road... Her bosom heaved under the warm current, swelling with a lungful of air she then released slowly, her skin warm and tingly as the memory washed over her. She wanted to see more of that dashing side of him. They should do this more – go out, have fun. They were only in their mid-twenties, and they had to make up for a lot of lost time.

Relena stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in her mother's pale-lavender dress. She walked over to the bed and climbed in, joining Heero under the covers. He was naked, and she didn't miss out on a chance to snuggle close to him. She wrapped an arm around his middle and rested the other by his head, caressing the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Heero, for his part, didn't even stir.

She must have dozed off herself, because the next thing she knew her mother was knocking softly on the door.

"Relena?" she asked carefully from the hallway; "Dinner's ready."

Blinking groggily, Relena croaked out a sleep-heavy "be right there, mother..."

She untangled herself from Heero, who was still lying curled next to her, sleeping soundly.

"Five minutes!" She promised, knowing her mother was still there.

"All right..." the woman mumbled and walked away. "Heero," Relena whispered softly, nudging his shoulder.

"Mhmm...?" he was only doubtfully awake.

"Dinner's ready," she told him, "we're expected downstairs."

"Mhmm..." he acknowledged, but promptly drifted back to sleep. She snorted. And this was once a soldier who would spring out of bed at the slightest sign of a potential threat. If ever there was any need for proof of sustainable peace, this was it – right here.

"I'll go get your clothes," she said with a tender smile, tapping lightly on his shoulder. "Get ready, okay?"

"Mhmm... yeah..." The sheets rustled as he shifted to lie on his back and threw a hand over his eyes. "...'ive 'inutes..."

"Sure," Relena muttered skeptically and threw the covers aside. Sighing, she rolled out of bed and left the room to go fetch his clothes from the dryer. He wouldn't have gotten up with her there anyway. He didn't have his prosthesis on. Getting him to take it off before bed had taken months. She had never seen him with a bare stump. He would usually wait under the covers after removing his artificial limb, and remained covered in the morning until she left the room. She never said anything, because it was hard enough to get him to remove the prosthesis for the night in the first place. She simply counted her blessings and let the issue drop, for now. One day, perhaps, he would feel comfortable enough to let her see that broken side of him, but for now, she would simply have to keep leaving the room to give him his privacy.

Her mother had already taken Heero's jeans and T-shirt out of the dryer and folded them neatly. She had even folded his underwear, placing them on top of the pile along with his socks. Relena smiled awkwardly as she accepted the pile of warm clothes, along with her mother's critical appraisal. So she had brought home a guy who preferred faded jeans and a plain tee over a nice pair of trousers – so what?!

"Thank you, mother," she murmured uneasily; "We left our bags back in the car..." she added a sheepish, and an entirely redundant, explanation.

"I didn't say anything," her mother remarked calmly, running her eyes up and down the dress she had borrowed without asking. "It suits you." She smiled.

Relena nodded, trying to smile back. Maybe it was all in her head. So far, her mother had done nothing but potter about, making dinner and folding laundry. She was letting her insecurities get to her, wasn't she? First with Heero, and now with her mother. She felt like a child again, and she hated it.

"I'll be right back to set the table," she promised her mother, and hurried upstairs.

Heero was still asleep when she returned; lying on his back, hands sprawled at his side, head lolling onto the pillow and his mouth agape in heavy slumber. It was utterly adorable.

She placed the clothes on the nightstand and crawled on the bed next to him, creeping closer quietly. The mattress dipped under her weight, giving away her approach, but he didn't stir. She liked to think her presence was something familiar, and therefore registered as safe.

"Heero..." she whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek gently; "Time to wake up..."

"Mhmm..." he let out groggily, turning his head to face the other way. "...'ive 'minues..."

"It's already been five minutes," she chuckled, amused. "Come on. I don't want to keep my mother waiting."

This time, he didn't even grunt in response. His slow and heavy breathing meant that he was already back asleep.

Relena smiled affectionately, studying his sleeping face. She caressed his hair gently, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

"Heero..." she whispered, her voice soft but urgent. "Come on, wake up."

Not a thing.

Taking things up a notch, she leaned her head down to nibble playfully at his ear, teasing his earlobe with her tongue. It usually drove him crazy with desire, but this time he just waved his hand clumsily as if to drive away an annoying fly. Relena refused to give up. Smirking playfully, she leaned down again to whisper in his ear:

"Seiki..." she droned the name in a low, seductive, voice. "Wake up now..."

His eyelids flew wide open, his face rigid.

"Don't do that," he snapped. Relena gaped at him, at a loss for words. She hadn't expected such an extreme reaction.

"Sorry, I didn't mean––"

"Don't mean. Don't anything. Just... _don't_." He sighed and threw the covers aside violently, flinging his right leg to the floor. He sat up, turning his naked back to her.

"I didn't tell you my name so you could use it however you see fit," he grumbled as he snatched his prosthesis. He fastened it on hastily. Relena stared at his shoulder blades as they jerked with each motion, biting back her own frustration. She should have known better. Most likely, the name didn't bring with it too many happy memories.

"Then why did you?" she snapped at him, going against every shred of common sense. She shouldn't provoke him further when he was like this – especially by asking something so obvious; something he would have expressed directly if he had wanted.

"You know exactly why, _Princess,_ " he retorted, sending her a sharp glance over his shoulder. Hinting at her heritage was crossing a line, and therefore his way of telling her to back the fuck off. Well, she got the message – loud and clear.

"You're such a _jerk!_ " She snapped and threw a pillow at him. It hit him on the back of the head and fell back against the bed. Heero didn't so much as flinch.

"Thanks a lot!" She whirled around to make a dramatic exit befitting a queen. If he wanted to mess with Relena Peacecraft, then he'd get it. Only Heero could turn something as beautiful as a hinted love confession into a nasty fight. She hated him!

Relena stormed out of the room. Heero remained seated on the edge of the bed, back to the door as it slammed shut behind her.

*          *          *

She went to the kitchen and helped herself to a large glass of red wine. Her mother was in the dining room beyond the foyer, setting the table, even though Relena had told her she would do it, but of course her mother had to play the victim. How else would she have something to complain about? Still, Relena wanted to do _something_ , so she took it upon herself to season the salad waiting on the countertop. She took a few long gulps of wine, set the glass next to the fancy salad bowl, and reached for a bottle of vinaigrette dressing.

"Waar is je vriend dan?" _(Where is your boyfriend?)_ her mother asked, speaking Dutch, as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Hij komt eraan," _(He will be right down)_ Relena mumbled. She used two wooden spoons to toss the lettuce. She wasn't absolutely sure he would be joining them tonight (he could be so spiteful and annoying when he was angry with her), but chances were high that he would not fail her. In the very least, Heero always performed his duties to the letter.

"Relena, schatje, is alles goed?" _(Relena, honey, is everything all right?)_ her mother asked carefully.

"Ja, geweldig." _(Yeah, great)_ Relena sighed, keeping her eyes on the salad. "Het is een lange dag geweest, meer niet...." _(It's been a long day, that's all)_

Her mother nodded without speaking; it was unclear whether she had accepted her explanation or not.

"Well, hopefully you'll be able to enjoy yourself more tomorrow," she made an empty promise and walked to the oven. She put her mittens on and opened it.

"Wat is er met zijn benen?" _(What's wrong with his legs?)_

She asked the question so carelessly, she might as well have been inquiring about the weather.

Relena turned to her, gawking in disbelief. "Moeder, ongelooflijk dat je zoiets zegt!" _(Mother, I can't believe you just said that!)_

"What?" her mother let out defensively as she pulled out a large ceramic dish. "It was a perfectly innocent observation," she asserted while placing it on the kitchen island. She opened the lid, revealing a steaming pot roast. Looking up, she shot Relena a curious glance. "I noticed the limp," she said, a little chastising, as she examined her cooking. "I'm merely expressing my concern, Relena."

"I'm sure," Relena muttered and gulped some more wine. "If you want to ask something, mother, just do it," she sighed.

"It's just that..." Her mother was at least _trying_ to be diplomatic – Relena had to give her that – but the way she was squirming took something away from the attempt. "Well," she hesitated, covering the steaming dish. "As I'm sure you know, Relena, many young men nowadays have a... _past_."

Relena had to stop herself from scoffing into her wine. Instead, she sipped it calmly, stalling before she lowered the glass. "You're asking if Heero's a veteran."

"I suppose I am," her mother confirmed, nodding. She pressed her lips tightly, waiting for an answer.

Relena smirked. "Don't be absurd, mother," she said, "He would have been too young to join."

"So were you," her mother avowed coldly, "but that didn't stop you, now did it?"

"Did you?" Relena retorted archly.

"There's no need to be so defensive," her mother rebuked, quirking a delicate eyebrow. "Aren't I your mother? It's my job to care for you."

"That you are," Relena agreed, at least to the first part.

Her mother picked up the hot ceramic dish. "Wees echter voorzichtig, Relena, meer niet." _(Just be careful, Relena, that's all)_ She turned to leave the kitchen. "You worked very hard to put all of that behind you. I would hate to see you get hurt."

Relena remained by the kitchen counter after her mother had left. She raised the wine for another sip, glaring at the empty doorway. She refused to be lured into that trap. Not tonight; not when she had to deal with Heero's mood swings on top of everything. She had to do this one battle at a time, especially since she was fighting a lost cause.

She drank some more.

"Wel wat sparen voor later," _(Save some for later)_ her mother rebuked as she re-entered the kitchen to take the salad as well. "It'd be rude to serve an empty bottle of wine at dinner," she said before walking back to the dining room.

Relena rolled her eyes. She finished her glass of wine and then snatched the bottle off the countertop. Just as she made her way across the foyer, Heero came down the stairs, wearing his clean clothes. He paused, standing on the staircase with a hand resting on the banister, taking her in. She didn't miss the way his eyes had glanced at the bottle first, before shifting up to look at her.

They stared at one another, an intense mental standoff. Heero's hair was disheveled from sleep, his face still haggard with fatigue. He seemed particularly edgy, which meant he was sorry. There was always this unbearable tension in the air after they fought, usually over nothing of great importance. This time, however, she had overstepped their painstakingly established boundaries.

They were both very gifted at blowing matters completely out of proportion. And they never said they were sorry. They just moved on, scarcely talking things over. She knew it wasn't right, but it was either that or nothing, so she took what she could.

She was the first to break eye contact and keep walking. It was her small way of telling him she was still mad. She entered the dining room, where her mother waited, and placed the wine on the table. Heero stalled for a second longer. He joined them at the table, nodding a small greeting towards her mother.

"Did you get enough rest?" her mother asked Heero as he settled into a seat opposite Relena.

"Yes, thank you," he answered quietly, his voice still hoarse from sleep. Her mother extended her hand to ask for his plate, smiling thinly. Relena felt terribly out of place witnessing Heero in such an ordinary situation; it was the strangest thing she had ever seen.

"That's good to hear," her mother said just for the sake of saying something. Relena assumed Heero hated it just as much as she did. She hoped she never acted that way when she was with him, then she recalled her Hansel and Gretel comment back in the Barrens and flung a mental foot into her mouth. She should be more careful about what she said around him.

Heero handed her mother his plate and she filled it with some pot-roast, green peas and potatoes. She then reached to pour him some red wine, and he stopped her, raising his hand.

"None for me, thank you," he said firmly, looking up with such a stern expression, her mother's face paled a little in surprise.

"I don't drink," he clarified.

"Oh," her mother let out, bewildered. Worried that her mother might come to the right conclusion, Relena hurried to jump in.

"Heero has a bad heart," she blurted out dumbly, and Heero's eyes snapped in her direction with a scornful glare. So much for being careful...

"Oh," her mother let out again, her thin eyebrows lifting in surprise. She set the bottle back down and turned to accept Relena's plate. "Nothing too serious, I hope," she mumbled as she served Relena her meal.

"It's under control," Heero said, sending Relena an accusatory side-glance. She looked away, reduced under his punitive glare.

"I'll have some, mother," she peeped, raising her empty glass of wine. Her mother paused to scold her with a silent reprimand, for she had already drunk a whole glass of wine in the kitchen. Still, to avoid making a scene, she poured her some. Relena sipped it quietly, raising the glass high enough to conceal her face. She couldn't bear the way he was looking at her.

Her mother served herself some food and settled in a chair at the head of the table. Heero and Relena sat next to her on opposite sides. They ate in silence, cutlery clinking within the decorated walls.

"So, Heero," her mother finally addressed him, and Relena looked up from her plate, mortified. This was it. This was when her mother would interrogate Heero. And while Relena knew Heero believed he was capable of withstanding a brutal interrogation, he had yet to endure one conducted by her _mother_.

"Why won't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" her mother offered with a gracious smile. "Help me get to know you better."

"Mother, this isn't a job interview," Relena interjected.

"Nonsense," she was immediately dismissed; "I'm just making conversation, schatje."

"It's all right," Heero finally spoke, turning to her mother.

_His rock-hard expression could be surprisingly earnest_ , Relena mused. He was good at making himself seem harmless, despite – and even perhaps thanks to – his harsh demeanor. A gun with a silencer. That was what he really was.

"What would you like to know?" he inquired simply and Relena recalled what he had said in the car, about how he let people decide what they wanted to know about him, going back only as far as they were willing to go. Her earlier anger put aside, she could not resist the secret little smile forming on her lips as her mind flashed back to Heero voluntarily giving her his birth name. She didn't even have to ask, and he had gone back as far as he possibly could. What he really meant to say was that he loved her. She was a fool for getting angry with him. She had to make this right, and she couldn't wait for dinner to be over so she could pacify him.

"Well, for one," her mother opened with her first question, "I'm curious to know how long you have known my daughter?"

That was a trick question. Heero could sell her out right now if he was still mad. But he didn't.

"We've been going out for six months," he expertly avoided giving the real answer. She was impressed, but didn't relax quite yet. She sipped some more wine.

"Oh, really?" her mother remarked with a stiff smile. "How did you two meet?"

"We met by accident," Heero replied offhandedly – a bit _too_ carelessly for Relena's taste. "It was––"

"It was this thing for work," she hurried to cut in, just in case he was foolish enough to tell the story about how she had found him unconscious on the beach all those years ago. "On Valentine's day," she told her mother with a big fake smile on her face, ignoring the feeling of Heero's irritation. She had offended him, again, showing distrust of his expert skills in subterfuge. This was bad. What was wrong with her? And why was she still talking?

"We ran into each other completely by accident," she tried to keep calm, and took another sip of wine. Heero seemed utterly crossed with her now, though her mother seemed intrigued.

"Actually," Heero interrupted, a spiteful gleam in his eyes. "Relena bought me at an auction," he said with a cynical smirk, "got herself quite the bargain."

Oh, he was loving this, she could tell. Spending a couple of thousand dollars on a guy who considered his life as _"cheap"_ was just the kind of irony he'd find amusing. Quite the bargain, indeed.

"Really?" her mother let out, somewhat appalled. Relena glared at him before faking another smile for her mother. _'Diplomacy 101'_ began at the dinner table with her mother, or so her father used to joke. It had taken her a few short years to realize he hadn't been kidding.

"It was for charity," she clarified, knowing Heero would get extra credit if she pointed that out, "You know those bachelor auction events... from work."

"Oh, that's nice," her mother mumbled, albeit still far from reassured. "Do you do a lot of charity, Heero?"

"Not anymore," he shrugged and reached for his glass of water, "But I did do some goodwill work," he took a small sip and fixed his sharp blue eyes on Relena; "Back in the day."

_That's one way of putting it_ , Relena thought and looked the other way. She sipped some more wine, so her smile wouldn’t betray her. If one stopped to think about it, Heero had benefited the whole of humanity and he hadn't gotten a dime out of it, so she supposed one could put it that way, yes.

"That's quite commendable," her mother praised him ( _yes!_ ). The compliment was immediately followed by subtle criticism ( _of course!)_ : "Why did you stop?"

"Mother, I think that's enough questions for now," Relena felt the need to intervene again.

"Relena, doe niet zo onbeleefd," _(don't be rude)_ her mother reprimanded.

Relena opened her mouth to retort, but, thankfully, Heero spoke up again before she could open a front against her mother.

"I do not have a reason to hide anything from you, Mrs. Darlian," he said calmly.

_Boy did he ever!_ Relena snorted and poured herself some more wine. She could tell Heero was glowering at her, but she didn't care. Just because he had to abstain from drinking, didn't mean she had to do the same! Not tonight, anyway. Not after he had gone off on one at her earlier. Not while her mother was being _so––!_

So she drank more wine.

"To answer your question," Heero continued, ignoring Relena's drinking; "My work was no longer needed."

Looking from behind her glass, Relena saw her mother nod in approval.

"And what do you do now, for work, if I may ask?"

"I'm with Preventer. Cyber Intelligence. NYC branch," Heero recited a well-practiced reply and Relena chuckled quietly into her wine glass. Good thing he didn't give his full name, rank and badge number – the only details a P.O.W was allowed to disclose. Her mother probably wouldn't have gotten the reference anyway...

Unfortunately, his laconic reply still gave her mother enough to go on.

"Cyber Intelligence... sounds impressive," she commended; "MIT, I presume?"

Relena nearly choked on her wine. _Seriously?!_

Heero shook his head. "I've had some unofficial training, but I'm mostly self-taught."

Relena groaned internally. Her mother expected nothing short of an Ivy League man. To have Heero openly confess his lack of official education... it didn't look good.

"Hmm, yes," her mother tried to offer a polite response, "I hear that's not unusual in this line of work. Still, I would imagine it's better to have the proper credentials..."

"Moeder!" _(Mother!)_ Relena exploded, offended on his behalf. Heero, however, didn't even bat an eyelash as he gave his reply.

"My education was very thorough, Mrs. Darlian, I assure you."

Relena leaned back, impressed by his ability to present the ugly truth in such a harmless manner. Taking another sip of wine, she wondered how many times he had done the same with her. He seemed so calm, one could easily forget he was referring to years of grueling indoctrination under a mad man like Dr. J.

It hurt to even think about it. She had to find a way to steer the conversation away from Heero.

"Your job certainly implies that it was thorough," her mother agreed. "Preventer is very picky about their staff, or so I hear. Were you involved in anything I might have heard of?"

"Most likely," he confirmed, but refrained from giving away any details.

"Mother, this roast is absolutely _divine!_ " Relena chose this opportunity to compliment the chef; "What did you use again? Was it saffron?"

Both her mother and Heero turned to stare at her.

"Uh, yes," her mother sputtered. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Relena laughed awkwardly. "It turned out so well!"

Her mother frowned, and Heero scoffed quietly. Her job here was done.

They ate in silence after that; dense and heavy. Heero's eyes kept drifting towards the bottle before snapping back to his plate. He was trying, she could see that, but she was making it so hard for him. It had only been two-hundred days since he had given up the bottle. She was being unfair to him by drinking so much wine. No matter how upset she was with him, there was no excusing her behavior.

She put her glass down on the table, shoving it away to make a point. Heero noticed, which was good. He seemed more at ease now that she had stopped drinking in front of him; he resumed eating without lifting his eyes up to her wine every two seconds.

"Your accent," her mother said, suddenly picking up the conversation again, glancing up at Heero as she cut a piece of meat on her plate. "I can't quite place it," she professed with an apologetic smile. "Are you originally from New York, Heero?"

Out of all the topics to choose from, her mother had to start with Heero's origins – commenting about his accent, or lack thereof, no less! And that was coming from a woman who spoke English with a heavy Dutch accent. Hearing it always made Relena painfully aware of the differences between them. Her own Dutch was flawless (it was her native tongue, more or less), but the accent didn't carry over to her English. She had studied with a Canadian tutor in her early childhood, and had adopted a fairly neutral North American accent. The same went for her French, German, Spanish and Italian. Communication was never a problem, until she had met Heero and basically hit a wall. Verbal exchange was never his thing; with Heero, one had to read between the lines.

Although his disclosure was problematic, his articulation certainly was not. Like most Colonists, he spoke the English of the melting-pot of space that had become known as the Colonist Common Language (CCL)[4]; but even then, Heero lacked the borrowed pronunciations from the numerous nations who had established the Colonies; he spoke in such an _"accent-less"_ manner, that he did not appear to be from anywhere in particular. Relena wondered if it had anything to do with his training, perhaps to make sure he would blend in wherever he went.

But why did it even matter? Just because someone spoke with an accent, didn't mean they also thought with one. Accents didn't make people stupid, or smart for that matter. They were simply an indication of origin, which her mother probably associated with class. Oh. Now she understood where it was all headed.

"No, I'm not," Heero answered her mother's question about New York. "I moved there about three years ago."

"I see," her mother acknowledged, "So where are you from originally, Heero?"

He didn't hesitate to reply, his blunt honesty catching Relena by surprise. "Space," he said; "The L1 Cluster."

"Interesting," her mother said thoughtfully and took a sip of her own wine. "L1 has a large Russian population, does it not?"

Relena frowned. How did her mother come up with this useless small talk?

"I know someone from L1," her mother continued, "a Russian man. There's no mistaking his accent. I think many people on L1 still speak the language."

"I suppose," Heero had no choice but to agree with that useless bit of information; "Although, my mother was of Japanese descent."

Relena looked up, stunned. Heero had never once told her about his family. He had said most people didn't let him get that far, and here her mother had plunged right in. Could it really be that simple – all she had to do was ask?

"Must be hard living so far away from home," her mother remarked and Relena blanched at her ignorance; she wasn't about to––

"Do you get to see your family often?"

And she did. Relena's heart sank painfully _._

"I was orphaned at a young age," Heero said outright, and her mother's foot almost flew into her mouth.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, flustered. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

Relena's head snapped up in her mother's direction. "Mother, this is––"

"Terrorist attack," Heero cut in, speaking calmly. Relena gaped at him, eyes wide, but he ignored her and kept facing her mother. "We were at the Bulge opening ceremony."

Why was he being so painfully honest? Was it just to spite her, or was he truly having a proper conversation with her mother? Relena was confused. She had met him over ten years ago, and yet she was learning more about him in this awful dinner than she had managed to learn in all of their time together.

"Bulge?" her mother strained to remember; "You mean the OZ space fortress?"

He nodded. "Yes. We named it 'Bulge' as a derogatory nickname. Its construction had caused considerable financial and political strain on the people of the Colonies."

"Yes," her mother agreed, "I recall. Back in the Eighties. There was an attack... during the fortress' inaugural ceremony, in '86." [5]

He nodded. "Yes. Over a hundred fatalities. My parents were among them."

"Oh, dear," her mother placed a hand over her heart; "That must have been hard. I'm sorry." She turned to Relena, her eyes shining sadly. "I'm sure Relena knows what that feels like, don't you, dear?"

Heero turned to address her, not saying a word.

Relena bowed her head, avoiding his prying eyes. She had always assumed that they shared this intimate pain, yet she had never dared asking him about it.

"Y-yes..." she mumbled quietly, shifting uneasily in her seat. Heero watched her with an unreadable expression on his face, saying nothing.

Her mother turned to him with a tight smile. "Relena and her father were very close. I told George he shouldn't go to space when everyone was at war like that..." She sighed mournfully. "It's such a dreadful place..."

"Mother, stop. Please," Relena implored her. This was getting out of hand.

"No, I understand," Heero said with this pained and honest look in his eyes; it hurt to watch. "Space has taken away everything from me. It's not someplace I'd like to go back to anytime soon."

"Heero..." Relena whispered, moved by his brutal honesty. Heero still felt betrayed by his homeland. That devastated her more than anything else. He had sacrificed everything for the people of the Colonies, yet he felt that he could never go back there.

Such openness must cause him great distress, but there he was – answering her mother's every enquiry. He was never like that with her... or was he? Come to think of it, Heero always answered her questions openly. He had done so in the PSC's cockpit, and on numerous occasions. It was just that, more often than not, she didn't have the nerve to ask.

Relena could talk on and on about herself; about her day at work or school, reminiscing about this and that, babbling about a book she had read or an exciting new TV drama, bemoaning world politics and whatnot. Heero would listen attentively, but he would hardly ever comment or share his own perspective on such matters.

She would often pause after a minutes-long monologue and laugh sheepishly, telling him that it was his turn to say something because she felt bad for dominating the conversation. Heero made her feel like such a blabbermouth, it was embarrassing sometimes. However, he would just offer that sweet subtle-hint-of-a-smile of his, and tell her that he didn't mind. She would love to listen to him too; she enjoyed the sound of his hushed voice. Never hesitant, always straight and to the point, but so very quiet... like he feared someone might be listening. She suspected the CLO had monitored his every move when growing up, and therefore he always had to watch what he was saying. Maybe the habit stuck.

Either way, she wished he would speak up more often, but she never dared to push the issue. She was always afraid of pushing him away – which was what her mother was doing at that very moment.

"And who raised you? Was there family?"

Relena slammed her fist on the table. "Moeder, dat is genoeg!!" _(Mother, that's enough!)_

"Relena," her mother rebuked, outraged. "Zo behandel je je niet Moeder." _(It is no way to treat your mother)_

"And this is no way to treat the man I love!" She purposely switched back to English, jumping to her feet to glare at her mother. Yes, she had just confessed her love to him, but she couldn't stop to dwell on it now. "Heero's only being kind, replying to your questions out of respect for me, but that doesn't mean you should keep grilling him about the most painful moments of his life. If this is some ploy to chase him away, then you should save your breath. You're not scaring either of us. I know all that I need to know about him, and I will never turn away from any of it. So just stop it, mother. Please. You're making a fool out of yourself."

An awkward silence fell over the dining room. Her mother gawked at her, utterly speechless. Heero also looked at her strangely. She couldn't decipher the look in his eyes. The second the words had left her mouth, his eyes had softened, narrowing thoughtfully.

He lowered his head to his plate, eyes shifting slowly to the side. Then, he looked up, his lips parting as if to say something, but he stopped himself – mouth snapping shut, eyes darting down. He looked away, his expression unusually meek. He seemed lost, completely thrown off by her boldly honest statement.

It was never her intention to confess so recklessly. This could very well be the first time anyone has ever professed their love to him, and it had been said almost in passing; an incidental love confession as a byproduct of talking back to her mother. Heero deserved so much better than this, and he didn't even know it.

Feeling terrible, Relena gingerly sat back down, pulling her chair closer to the table. She resumed eating, eyes on her plate. She could still feel Heero's contemplative gaze on her. She flashed him a quick glance, just to acknowledge him in some way, and then lowered her eyes again.

Her mother returned to her meal as well, keeping quiet. Relena knew the routine well. Her mother would let her simmer down for a bit, before going back to acting business-as-usual.

Heero shifted his eyes from her to her mother, and then back again. Concluding that the storm had passed, he reached for his fork and continued eating. He had barely touched his meal, so he just concentrated on that, keeping his head low.

_Welcome to the Darlians,_ Relena thought sarcastically. If her father were still alive, he would have surely saved the evening somehow. He was good at keeping her mother in check. Relena heaved a quiet sigh. She missed him so much.

"So, what happened to your car?" It had taken her mother a total of three minutes to regain her composure and carry on the conversation as though nothing so terribly awkward had just happened. Used to it, Relena played along:

"Our battery suddenly died on us," she put her best poker face on as she turned to her mother. "And no one from the garage could come because of Labor Day, so we walked."

Heero looked up from his plate and she sent him a little smile. He wasn't the only one who could twist the truth into an acceptable lie. She was an expert at presenting her mother with a sugar-coated version of her life. He nodded unobtrusively to signal his approval and looked back down at his meal. Heero was nothing if not a quick learner.

It was better to keep your head down at the Darlian family table.

*          *          *

 

[1] Gundam Wing, episode 39.

[2] DDR: Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration: a peacebuilding strategy for disbanding former combatants and reintegrating them into society.

[3] Long-duration space flight is associated with slower heart rate and may increase arrhythmia susceptibility (D’Aunno et al. 2003).

[4] Based on[ this very insightful headcanon](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/165335369214/gw-accents) by BHG. Posted with permission.

[5] Frozen Teardrop, [Chapter 4, Part I – AC 186 Summer](https://inchoate-oeuvre.livejournal.com/2463.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story is complete. Will update soon. ^_^
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated...


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the meal went by uneventfully, mainly small talk on her mother's part. Heero had nothing to add to the conversation, as it was mostly gossip about various acquaintances of her mother's, so he didn't speak another word until dinner was over. Relena offered to help her mother clear the table while he went upstairs. He seemed so grateful to be dismissed, that she almost laughed at the obvious relief on his face.

Her mother had taken the leftovers to the kitchen. Relena was still stacking the plates in a pile at the dining table, when she heard her mother's voice from the foyer:

"You've met my daughter before, haven't you?" her mother asked, and it took Relena a second to realize she was speaking to Heero. She froze, hands gripping the dirty plates, and listened, ears straining.

"Yes, I have," Heero replied, sounding earnest. Her mother must have caught him as he was making his way upstairs. _Too slow, Heero!_ Relena grimaced.

A tense silence followed, before her mother spoke up again.

"She was a different person back then," she argued, as if the argument was in any way valid.

"So was I," Heero retorted coolly. "We're getting reacquainted."

"She doesn't need this right now," her mother whispered sharply; "She's moved on, rebuilt her life. She's better off without all that... mess."

"I think we all are," Heero agreed. Relena was sure he was aware of her eavesdropping. Her mother, however, foolishly assumed their quiet voices didn't carry over to the dining room.

"What I'm trying to say is––"

"That you're concerned I might be a bad influence," Heero completed the sentence for her, but without a hint of criticism in his usually rigid tone; quite the contrary, he sounded strangely sympathetic. "That I might bring her back to a place she had put behind her for a reason."

"Uh, y-yes..." Her mother cleared her throat, Relena guessed, to mask her bewilderment. "Yes. Exactly. I worked hard to take her away from all of that. I don't want to see her get hurt."

"Has it ever occurred to you that we might share the same interests?" Heero contended. "I don't want to go back to that place either. Nor do I want to see her suffer. We've also worked hard to put things behind us. Being together makes it a little easier to move forward."

Relena bowed her head, her heart swelling with warm tenderness.

"Excuse me," Heero concluded, and Relena saw in her mind's eye how he nodded his head in farewell before turning to climb up the stairs. She waited a few moments before making her way to the kitchen. Her mother still stood at the bottom of the staircase, looking up blankly, as Relena passed through the foyer.

"I'll take care of the dishes, mother. Thank you for a lovely meal..."

She didn't wait for an acknowledgement and stepped into the kitchen, stifling a triumphant smile.

Heero – 1; Mother – 0

*          *          *

Relena loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. Her mother stepped inside without saying a word, avoiding her eyes. She fetched her nightcap, filling a fancy crystal pitcher with ice cubes before pouring golden liquid inside, and retired to her bedroom without so much as a good night. She was angry, but Relena couldn't deal with it right now. She would talk to her in the morning, smooth things out, like always.

Done with her chores, Relena went upstairs to join Heero in the bedroom. She half-expected to find him in bed, already asleep, but the bed was empty. The lamp was on, but Heero wasn't in the room. She felt a cool breeze and turned to the balcony doors. They were open, overlooking a dark blue sky and a black ocean glimmering in the moonlight.

She found him sitting facing the beach. A chair waited empty next to his, the two separated by a table. The crystal pitcher her mother had prepared earlier rested on a round silver tray, along with a matching crystal whiskey glass. She must have brought it to their room as some kind of peace offering.

Heero held a second wide glass, swirling two ice cubes in the amber-colored beverage. He turned to look over his shoulder when she stepped onto the balcony, greeting her with a silent gaze.

Panicking a little as her eyes fell on the whiskey glass in his hand, Relena caught herself and quickly regained her composure, but it was already too late. Heero had noted the alarm in her eyes. He raised the drink to his lips, slowly, glaring up at her over the rim of the glass.

Her heart sank in her chest; she felt awful. She had shown distrust again. What a _disaster_ this weekend had turned out to be, and not just because of her mother...

Relena sighed and took a seat. She poured herself a drink, ice cubes spilling from the pitcher. She tasted a small sip, and sighed. It was only ice tea.

She turned to look at the view. A clear starry sky stretched over an endless ocean. Pale moonlight painted the beach in creamy ivory-blue; colors muted in the dark. The air was warm, with the occasional cool ocean breeze swishing through the thick switchgrass below. It rustled, and the waves murmured softly in the dark. She inhaled the salty air deeply and released it slowly, deflating against the chair. Finally, she could relax.

"I've been acting really stupid," she said. "I'm sorry."

Heero didn't tear his gaze away from the dark beach. A breeze tousled his hair as he sipped his ice tea.

"Guess it runs in the family, huh?" she tried to joke, but his stern expression did not waver. Her strained smile vanished, replaced by a frown. A drop of condensation grew on the lip of her glass and then trickled down onto her arm. She studied him carefully, her eyes tracing the outlines of his angular face. Even well into his twenties, Heero still possessed a kind of boyish charm, with his smooth skin and that messy heap of dark hair always falling over his eyes. It was the tight-lipped glare, forged into otherwise delicate features, which matured him beyond his years.

"We're not going to make a big deal out of this, are we? I don't want this to turn into another fight."

"You were being dishonest," Heero admonished, moonlight slithering across his face as clouds drifted away to reveal the moon. "You're ashamed of me. Of what I really am."

"Of course not!"

"Then why did you stop me?" he accused. "Each time I was about to say something, you stopped me. You were afraid of what I might say."

"Heero, she was asking you some very personal questions and I... I didn't want her to make you uncomfortable."

"She wasn't," he said firmly, "but _you_ were. And, you were _drinking_ ," he added bitterly, his blue eyes burning in scorn. "Your mother had every right to get angry with you. Even I know that," he muttered and turned to the ocean, raising his glass for another sip.

Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say in return. He was right.

It wasn't very often that Heero called her out as the one at fault. Usually, she was the one to berate him for being an insensitive jerk, and, more often than not, he would agree and face the blame. Her stomach roiled uneasily. It felt awful when things were the other way around.

Heero – 2; Relena – 0

"I know," she finally admitted, turning to face him again. "And I'm truly sorry. Mother has a way of bringing out the worst in me. I thought I was protecting you. I know it's not an excuse, and I promise I'll work on it. I'm really sorry, Heero."

He nodded, accepting her apology, but he still didn't turn to face her. He gazed ahead at the murky ocean, indomitable. She recognized this stoicism; it meant that he was out of his depth, trying to decide how he should act. She gave him a moment, turning to look up at the night sky. A brilliant waxing moon shone in the heavens. Two bright stars twinkled next to it – one big and bright, the other slightly smaller; the L1 and L2 Clusters.

"You never told me about your mother," she mumbled, gazing up at the two _"stars"._

"You never asked," Heero replied simply, shrugging.

She turned to him, studying his profile in surprise. "You mean... You would have told me?"

"I don't hide anything from you, Relena," he murmured, swirling the sweet tea in his glass.

"Then why haven't you shared these things with me before?" she asked carefully, knowing she was treading on thin ice. She didn't want to breach what little trust he still had in her.

Heero frowned at her question, as though finding it odd. "What reason do I have to talk about my mother?" he asked, and emptied his drink.

She opened her mouth to retort, but then snapped it shut. He made a good point.

"I suppose you're right..." She murmured, turning to look down at the beach. "It's just that... I'm always afraid I might say something wrong. I never know which issues might..."

"I'm not made out of glass, Relena," he rebuked, placing his empty glass down on the table. He poured himself another drink, ice cubes clinking as they fell into the glass.

Relena wondered if he actually believed that. She watched him, a hunched figure in the dark, pale against a vast black ocean. He looked small. The wind weaved through his unruly bangs and he raised his hand to push them aside. He was long overdue for a haircut. She should offer to cut his hair for him once they got back to New York. He had been avoiding the hairdresser for far too long.

To most, Heero seemed to have been forged out of pure Gundanium, but with her – he was all glass. He had once said that he considered her to be much stronger than him. He wasn't kidding. It was the little things, the plain things only she got to see, that broke him. Things that shouldn't make people fall apart, like going to the dentist or getting a haircut, but Heero broke easily when it came to those things. Trusting a barber with a pair of scissors, being stuck in traffic on a holiday weekend, having a civil conversation with her mother... those were all dangerous wrecking balls. The truth was that Heero tended to take things to heart. Whenever he failed doing something _"normal"_ , he would crack.[1]

But she couldn't very well tell him that.

"Why did you get upset when I called you Seiki?" she asked, testing to see if he would respond as he had promised, sharing his thoughts with her.

"That's not who I am anymore," Heero replied, tone clipped.

Relena nodded in understanding.

A wave crept upon the sand and withdrew into the black deeps, and then again. A pleasant ocean breeze swept through the balcony. Heero crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. A notable shiver raked through him. He looked washed out under the moonlight, perhaps due to the contrast against his dark-grey T-shirt.

"Are you cold?" The weather wasn't so bad to her, just a little breezy.

"Yeah," he mumbled, rubbing his arms.

"Wait here," she said and went back inside. She knocked on her mother's door, but there was no answer, so she let herself in quietly. She feared a confrontation would ensue, but her mother wasn't in the room; perhaps she was taking a bath, because the ensuite door was closed. Relena tiptoed to her mother's walk-in closet and went straight to the hanger where she had found her father's suit earlier; a few more articles of his clothing hung there too. She took a simple white button- down and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Here," she handed the shirt to Heero, who in turn arched an eyebrow at her.

"It was my dad's," she explained with a wistful smile. "Mother must have kept it."

He nodded and accepted the shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves. The oversized shirt hung sloppily from his shoulders, and he had to fold the cuffs at least twice. It softened him; made him younger, akin to a little boy wearing his father's suit.

Relena sat back down. They stared quietly at the ocean, listening to the waves.

"What about your father?" she asked timidly, turning to Heero.

"What about him?" he snapped, the walls shooting back up.

"You said your mother was Japanese," she explained, speaking slowly. She was apprehensive but he had said that all she had to do was ask. She could not think of a better time to test him on that.

"Was it a mixed marriage?"

Heero shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He turned to pour himself some more ice tea. "He made me call him _Mister Clark_ ," he recalled with a weary sigh, setting the pitcher back down. "And he never missed a chance to tell me I wasn't his kid, or that I should go back _'to that damn Ruskie'_. To my real father." [2]

Relena nodded, just to show she was listening. The subtext was clear to her. She knew she shouldn't pry any further, afraid to touch something as tender as a child's wounded heart. Her adoptive-father had meant the world to her; he was very dear to her heart, still. Apparently, Heero hadn't been so lucky.

"You must have gotten your eyes from him then," she suggested, opening her eyes to offer him the gentlest smile she could muster; "Your biological father, I mean." She suspected a Russian man was more likely to have blue eyes than a Japanese woman.

A sudden gush of strong wind blew Heero's bangs up, and he ran a hand through them again, ruffling them back in place, obscuring his eyes.

"No," he said, sighing, "that's actually from my mother." He toyed with his hair again; a nervous gesture, perhaps?

"Really?" she marveled, unable to stop a grin from forming on her lips.

"Yeah," he murmured, shrugging, "Her name was Aoi," he said quietly, twirling the ice melting in his glass, which he now held over his lap; "That's Japanese for blue. She had blue eyes, which is unusual, so..."

Relena smiled, practically beaming. "Then you take after her."

"I guess," he shrugged. "It's a genetic fluke." He tilted his glass to stare at the ice melting at the bottom. "Makes me easily recognizable." Then he turned despondent again, grimacing down at his glass. "The CLO didn't like it," he added, and took a swig of the melted ice, tipping his head back as though downing a shot.

An image flashed in her mind's eye – the day she had first met him on the beach. The first thing he had done after she had removed his helmet, was to cover his eyes and rasp out a panicked _'did you see?!'_

She turned to Heero, studying his face. She stared at his long messy bangs, at how they obscured his vision, suddenly painfully aware of why he had grown them to be so long. He was ashamed.

 _A genetic **fluke**. _ Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach. _Easily recognizable!_ Relena was furious with the CLO for making him feel bad for something so beautiful; teaching him to resent perhaps the only thing he had left of his mother.

She reached her hand over the table separating them, and brushed his bangs aside gently. She smiled at him.

"You have beautiful eyes," she whispered, hoping for a magical moment, but Heero turned his head away uneasily, letting her arm fall, limp, into thin air. He pushed his hair back into place, rigid, as he studied the ocean in tense silence.

She might have embarrassed him, but his reaction originated from something much deeper, Relena suspected. It would take more than a small sentimental moment on her mother's balcony to rid him of years of ingrained degradation. It was foolish of her to assume otherwise.

The waves rustled down below, lapping upon the sand. Dark feathery clouds drifted across the luminous white moon, carried by a gentle breeze. She closed her eyes, relishing in the momentary relief from the heat pulsing in her cheeks. The night was warm and humid and the salt wind came and went like a short blessing.

"Tell me something," Heero said, his voice barely carrying over the wind. It was hard to catch his words when he was facing away from her. It took her mind a second to process what he had said.

"What? About me?"

He nodded, turning to her with tired eyes. "Yeah," he let out hoarsely, throwing in a weary smile to signal they were moving past the earlier tension.

"But I always talk about myself..." she chuckled awkwardly, tucking a strand of tousled hairs behind her ears.

"I enjoy listening."

That raised a genuine smile on her lips. "Really? I always feel like I'm babbling endlessly."

He turned to look at the beach with a charming little smirk. "I don't mind."

"Well, is there anything in particular you'd like to know?"

He shrugged. "Just... anything."

Perhaps he just needed a distraction.

"Something about your childhood, maybe."

"What, like a favorite childhood memory?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Like... Like a children's book, maybe." He turned to her; "What was your favorite book?"

"Oh, no." She shook her head, laughing. "You'd laugh if I told you."

"I won't."

"It's silly. You will."

He had that ever-elusive hint-of-a-smile hovering over his lips. She regarded them for a moment, frowning. They were a tad too pale, bordering on bluish even. Was he still cold?

When he spoke again, his voice was soft. 

"So I'd laugh. Would that be so bad?"

She shook her head, smiling. Of course not; she would love nothing more than to hear him laugh for a change.

"It was Peter Pan," she relented with a smile.

"Peter Pan? What's that about?"

Relena almost berated him for not knowing, but why would he? He was more likely to have read Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_ at that age, than _Peter Pan_.

"It's about a boy who never grows up," she told him wistfully. "He lives in a magical place called Neverland." She pointed up at the brightest celestial bodies she could find in the night sky, one big, the other slightly smaller.

"Second star to the right, and straight on till morning."

He turned to look up as well, frowning thoughtfully. It took her a moment to realize she had just pointed at the L1 Cluster, his far away home. She smiled sheepishly and lowered her hand back to her lap.

"Peter ran away from home when he was an infant," she continued, "He was raised by fairies, who taught him how to fly. He had many great adventures, fighting pirates and stuff like that. His arch nemesis was Captain James Hook – a notorious pirate with an iron hook for a hand. One night, Peter comes down to Earth and befriends a young girl – Wendy. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. He teaches her how to fly and takes her with him to Neverland. The girl had always been waiting for him, looking out her bedroom window into the night, hoping he would come. And then one night he did. And it changed her life." She turned to gaze at the ocean, smiling sadly. "I used to sit on my windowsill for hours, looking up at the stars and imagined myself as Wendy, waiting for my Peter," she chuckled guiltily. "Silly, isn't it?"

She looked up timidly to see his reaction, expecting a frown. She was surprised to find him smiling tenderly. She looked away, flustered by his overwhelming attention. It was like nothing else existed in this moment, only her.

"Anyway," she went on, laughing quietly to mask her embarrassment, "I really identified with Wendy, with her need to get away from the pressure her parents were putting on her to grow up. When I was really mad at them, I would fling my window open and shout at the top of my lungs – _Peter! Come get me!_ " She laughed again, recalling how she had called out Heero's name in a similar manner – a naive fifteen-year-old girl standing on a cliff, shouting at the ocean.[3]

Heero seemed to be enjoying her tale, which made her smile in return.

"I would lie in bed at night and picture the window suddenly blowing open and Peter dropping in. He would ask for my name, like in the book, and I would proudly give it to him. I loved the fact that my last name sounds like Darling, like Wendy's name."[4] Sighing, Relena looked up at the black horizon. "The book said that all girls heard Peter Pan in their sleep, visiting their room at night, and only the lucky ones heard him while awake. I wanted to be one of the lucky ones who got swept away..."[5]

Relena reached her hand across the table to hold Heero's hand, smiling at him. "Guess I did, in a way..."

"Hn," he grunted, but he didn't let go of her hand.

Not long after she and Heero met, she had forgotten all about the silly notion of Peter Pan and the Neverland. Instead, she had looked out the window waiting solely for Heero, who – unlike Peter – never failed to arrive when she needed him the most.

She deliberated offering a twenty-second hug, but decided not. This was finally the time for words, not actions.

"Did you have a favorite book, growing up?" she asked carefully.

"No," he mumbled, staring dully ahead. "My mother never read to me, and when I was finally taught how to read, I was already with J, so..."[6]

Relena cast her eyes down. "Yeah," she uttered, knowing what he meant.

They sat in silence, listening to the swooshing of the sea. A boat sailed across the black horizon, its bright yellow beams of light splicing the dark waters as it passed by. They should go sailing tomorrow, Relena decided, and wondered if they could rent a boat on such short notice. Maybe the PSC could come in handy again...

She turned to face Heero, who was still gazing out at the water. She studied his face, and wondered what was on his mind. She hoped she hadn't stirred the demons back to life with all her probing.

Heero let go of her hand and reached to rub his arms again, even though he was now wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

"Are you still cold?" she asked, touching his arm in concern.

"Just tired, I guess," he said, lowering his hands back to his lap without turning away from the view. "Long day," he added with a jaded sigh.

"Yes," she agreed, even though their little nap earlier had been restful enough to keep her going for a few more hours. Then again, she hadn't been the one driving and piloting all day – not to mention their little exercise in promiscuity back in the PSC cockpit; Heero had borne the brunt there too...

She stood up, extending her hand to him with a tender smile. "Let's go to bed."

*          *          *

Relena wasn't the least bit tired. She lay next to Heero, who lay on his back, her body pressed alongside his. As usual, his right knee was propped up on a pillow, the stump of his left tucked beneath it.

She used him for her pillow, nestled under his cheek as he rested his head against hers, his hand ghosting over the small of her back. She cradled the back of his head with one arm, fingers caressing his hair absentmindedly.

The room was dark, washed by moonlight. She had left the balcony doors open and the curtains fluttered gently with the wind, letting some cool air into the humid room. She had taken her clothes off, but remained in her bra and underwear. Heero had also stripped down to his boxers, though he still insisted on using the covers for warmth. She felt it was too muggy to sleep under the covers, but she didn't want him to be cold. Her skin clung to his, their shared body heat trapped under the sheet. Even so, there was no other place she would rather be than lying next to him like this. She listened to the sound of Heero's heartbeat thud quietly against her ear.

"Tell me more about yourself," she whispered and felt him shift beneath her.

"Like what?" he rasped, perhaps pulled back from the boundaries of sleep.

"Something about before. Before all of this..." she murmured, gazing at the starry skies beyond the balcony. Her eyes sought the L1 Cluster winking in the night. "Something about the real you. Something... about Seiki."

Her head moved with the rise and fall of his chest as he exhaled deeply. His fingers drew small circles around her tailbone, tickling her skin. He was thinking. She waited patiently, listening to the soft thumping in his chest.

"After Bulge," his near-whisper voice vibrated against her ear, "I had trouble sleeping. Everything changed. I couldn't sleep."

He paused, but she knew there was more. She waited for his husky voice to break the silence.

"A man took me in. A Russian man."

Relena recalled their first date, seven months ago. Desperate to make conversation with a familiar stranger, she had asked him what languages he spoke. _'Mainly English,'_ Heero had replied matter-of-factly; _'A little Japanese, what I remember, at least. Some Chinese. Basic Russian. A little Hebrew.'_

 _'Hebrew?!'_ she had marveled, as though he had confessed to speak _Klingon_. Heero had then told her about the time he had spent working for Preventer's M.E. division in Tel Aviv, until he had lost his leg. He also told her about learning Chinese while working with Chang Wufei in Beijing prior to the Middle East, but he had never explained how he was able to speak Russian.

"So that's how you picked up the language? From that man?"

"Just basic stuff. Mostly swearing," he scoffed. "Odin spoke English, but when he got mad, it was always Russian."

Relena listened, trying not to think of the horrors hiding behind a simple statement such as _'when he got mad'_.

"I don't know why," Heero admitted, his hushed words drawing her back to the now, "but I always suspected he was my real father. The _damn Ruskie_." He paused, and she heard him lick his lips, tongue clicking. "I never dared ask him, though," he added gruffly, and paused again. He inhaled deeply, releasing the air with a lengthy sigh. "He... Odin killed people for a living. Taught me all the trade secrets."

Relena closed her eyes and nudged her head closer to the center of his chest. "That's... that's terrible."

"I was six. I didn't know it wasn't supposed to be that way." His fingers brushed back and forth against her naked back as he spoke, the words leaving his mouth slowly and thoughtfully in time with the movement. "He said it'd get easier with each kill. I became numb to it at some point, but... it never got easier. I still couldn't sleep."[7]

She opened her eyes at this. The pale beams of moonlight fell across the floor in thick stripes of luminous blue. Heero gave a long, burdened sigh. She held him tight, nuzzling her nose in his warm chest. This was hard for him.

"Odin used to hide his gear inside a violin case.[8] It was a family heirloom, from Earth. He played it at night, when he thought I was asleep. Every night. I'd lie awake in bed and listen. It helped."

"Maybe he knew," she offered, blinking away the prick of tears from her eyes. "Maybe it was his way to help. Maybe he was trying to tell you what you already knew."

She could only hear his heart beating faintly now. Fast, then slow, then fast, then slow. A distressed rhythm, worn by countless heartaches.

"Maybe," he finally said, speaking over it. "I'll never know."

"What happened to him?"

It was hard to read his expression from such a low angle, but she could see his eyes gleaming in the dark. He stared ahead at a vague point on the ceiling.

"...he got shot," he then let out quietly. "A mission on L3- X18999. And then I was with J."

She was curious to know more, but this wasn't the time to ask how he had come to join the CLO. An eight-year-old assassin would have surely drawn their attention. Without an adult to look after him, Heero must have been easy prey for the CLO. He might think that he had volunteered to enlist, but the tragic fact was that child soldiers had very limited access to information concerning the consequences of their choice. They could not control or fully comprehend the forces with which they were dealing. She had encountered many unfortunate cases during her work for the High Commissioner for Human Rights at the UN. Even if it might have appeared to him that he had chosen to join, his choice could never be considered voluntary. Heero had been a victim of circumstance, and the CLO had preyed on that innocence.

This wasn't new to her. She was always aware of it somewhere in the back of her mind, never forgetting her encounter with Dr. J at the beginning of the war. The old man had taken such pride in the fact that Heero understood the emotional pain that the people of the colonies had been forced to endure over the years, laughing almost manically when he told her how Heero was actually a kindhearted young man. She had agreed, but only out of ignorance. Now, she knew. Heero understood that pain, because he had lost everything a young boy could ever lose. Dr. J had exploited that, taking advantage of a child's heartache.

No wonder Heero had erected such sturdy walls around himself. Whoever dared approach him had to walk up against the icy winds howling along his enormous barricades. He had put up such a cold front, appearing poised and collected to the unsuspecting observer. It was impossible to catch even a glimpse of the horrors that went on behind his defenses, unless he dropped his guard and allowed her to see that hurt little boy cowering behind the wall.

Relena rose on one elbow to study his face and Heero returned her gaze evenly. She smiled a little, sad but grateful, thanking him for sharing his story with her. Leaning down, she bestowed a small peck on his lips to show her appreciation. He smiled in return, just a half-hearted gesture. Contented, she laid her head back on his chest and stared out into the night. She had never felt as close to him as she did at that very moment. Thinking back on their day, Relena had to admit that it hadn't been so disastrous after all.

"I had fun today," Heero said, as though reading her mind.

She smiled in the dark. "Me too."

"We should do this more," he added as an afterthought, "Get away from things."

She pushed up on her elbow again, the sheets rustling around her, and arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What?" he grumbled, and Relena smiled.

"Nothing," she smirked, "I just didn't expect that coming from you."

"Hn," he grunted, turning his head aside. "I'm just so tired all the time..." he mumbled with a weary sigh, closing his eyes and draping a bare arm over them. "I could use a break."

She studied his face, an arm across his eyes, skin pale under the wan light. He was pushing himself too hard. Not just today, but also on every other day. She would have realized it sooner, however it was so hard to tell with him; Heero would soldier on no matter the hardship, until he simply couldn't anymore. She used to admire the way he pushed himself to the limit, but now...

She lay back down, hugging him close as if to stop him from fading away.

Now... Now she was afraid for him.

"You're right," she whispered, petting the soft strands of hair across his chest; a small triangle patch of thin hair over his sternum. "We should do this more. Get out of the city. Get away." She tilted her head up to look at him. "I can take some time off work."

"I can't," he said grimly, "Not after..."

"Yeah," she murmured, "I know." He had already taken three months off for rehab. He had to prove his worth again, not take a vacation.

Grimacing in disappointment, she laid her head back down. She stared ahead numbly, curling his soft chest hair. It wasn't fair. Heero had been thrown into this terrible world of blood and war when he was only six, never catching a break. If anyone deserved to get away, it was him.

Relena tried to breathe over the terrible tightening in her chest. How much longer could he last?

"I think, sometimes..." Heero sounded pensive, starting from the middle, as he often did, leaving her the task of connecting the dots to make up for the lacking exposition. She listened, waiting to see where he was going.

"I'd get punished, sometimes," he said flatly; "Small errors. Hard lessons."

She didn't dare interrupt him. It was so rare of him to initiate a conversation, or revel in nostalgia. Perhaps this whole day has inspired him into a sharing mood.

"I had to stand at attention. For hours. A whole day, even. Just... standing still, rigid. It was... It was hard. Exhausting. But if I even stirred before I was dismissed, the punishment was worse. So I stood. As long as it took – I remained standing. Everything hurt, but I wouldn't budge. I held myself upright, somehow. I don't even know how. And when they finally dismissed me, I couldn't move. Couldn't fold my legs to sit. Couldn't even fall. I just kept... _standing_." He uttered the last word in a small, despaired tone. "I felt the same during rehab. Now, and then... with my leg. At PT. The feeling won't go away. It's like I have to keep standing, even though I can't. My legs are locked. I feel like falling, but I just... My knees won't budge. I keep standing, and it's... I'm so tired of standing still..."

He seemed so haggard. Relena wished she knew how to ease his burden. He wanted to be dismissed, but her love rooted him to the spot. She felt guilty for causing him such pain.

She didn't know what to say, so she lay her head on his chest and held Heero tightly, caressing him anxiously. He fell asleep after a while, his breath evening out into a slow, heavy rhythm.

Relena lay awake for a long time after.

*          *          *

She must have fallen asleep at some point, waking up well into the late morning hours. Bright white light flooded the room, a warm wind blowing from the balcony. She awoke to an empty bed. Heero had already left, leaving her hugging a pillow in his stead.

She took her sweet time, lounging in bed before getting ready for the day. She looked outside while brushing her teeth, peeking onto the balcony, but Heero wasn't there either. The ocean sparkled vibrant blue, glimmering beside the ivory sand. Pleasant wind whooshed through the grass along the water. It was a beautiful summer day. She couldn't wait to make the most of it.

Spitting the excess toothpaste into the sink, she rose to look at her reflection in the mirror. A wide smile was plastered on her face. She was ecstatic with the progress she was making with Heero. She had learned so much about him this weekend, exceeding her wildest dreams.

After another visit to her mother's closet (this time choosing a pair of beige slacks and an airy white blouse), she went downstairs, heading to the kitchen. Her mother stood by the sink, facing a large window overlooking the ocean. She was washing something under the tap. A colorful pile of summer fruits rested by the sink, next to a punchbowl. Relena walked over to the coffee pot across from the sink and reached to take a mug out of the cupboard.

"Waar is Heero?" _(Where's Heero?)_ she asked while making herself a cup of coffee.

Her mother reached for a beautiful cluster of green grapes. "Wilde zijn benen strekken, dus ging hij wandelen," _(He had to stretch his legs, so he went for a walk)_ she said, facing the sink to wash the fruit, "Down on the beach, I think."

Relena studied her mother's rigid posture, noting her stiff movements. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to muster the strength she needed to apologize for last night.

"Moeder," she said softly and stepped closer, "het spijt me dat ik zo kinderachtig was," _(Mother, I'm sorry I acted so childishly)_ she apologized, twisting the coffee mug in her hand. Her mother still didn't turn to face her.

"I let my temper get the better of me, and I shouldn't have. I was nervous about bringing Heero here... I should have been straight with you from the start." Relena glanced down at her coffee, too ashamed to face her mother for longer. "Sorry als ik je teleurgesteld heb." _(I'm sorry if I've let you down)_

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Relena," her mother lectured, washing the grapes under running water, "I'm used to it, but the way you behaved towards your boyfriend last night..." She shook her head in disappointment.

"I know," Relena said, "I already apologized to Heero. I don't want this to escalate into something that it's not, so..." – she looked up tensely, gripping her mug with both hands – "are we good?"

"Je bent de dochter van je vader, oké..." _(You're your father's daughter, all right...)_ The Dutch words rolled strongly off her tongue. Her mother shook her head, sighing. "Always the diplomat. Always looking to pacify everyone..." She rattled the cluster of grapes over the sink to rid it of excess water. "Ja, we zijn klaar." _(Yes, we're good)_

"Dank je, moeder," _(Thank you, mother)_ Relena smiled in relief and placed the coffee mug on the countertop. She hugged her mother tightly, catching the woman by surprise. Despite their many differences, Marlene Darlian was the only mother she had ever known, and the only one she would ever love.

"Oké, oké..." _(all right, all right)_ her mother laughed, stiff and awkward in her daughter's bear hug. She tapped lightly on Relena's back. "Moving on," she said with an uneasy smile and turned back to her work. "Help me peel these," she handed Relena a couple of peaches, "Then you can chop some bananas."

"Hmm," Relena sniggered, searching a drawer for a peeler, "time to utilize some of those fancy grad school skills. I knew I applied for a reason..."

Her mother tittered lightly, shaking her head in amusement.

"Relena, soms denk ik dat je geen dag ouder dan vijftien..." _(Sometimes I think you're not a day over fifteen...)_

*          *          *

They made a bowl of virgin sweet punch, decorating it with colorful slices of fruit. Relena added ice cubes to the bowl and carried it out on a tray to the front porch. She decided to wait outside for Heero to come back from his stroll on the beach. When she stepped out of the house, she found him already sitting in one of the lounge chairs up front, facing the ocean. He was wearing the white button-down she had given him, his shoes thrown carelessly by the chair, soiled with soft chunks of sand. He was watching the waves lazily. Relena smiled at the sight. She was happy to see him taking it easy for a change.

She placed the tray on a small round table and poured him a glass of the punch. He didn't turn to look over his shoulder, even with all the noise she was making. She frowned, setting the glass down slowly. She circled around the chair, and saw that he was sleeping.

Relena smiled, her heart expanding warmly at the sight. He seemed so peaceful, washed with sunshine. His white shirt seemed to glow, as if engulfing him in a soft halo. He sat sagged against the backrest, his shoulders slumped, and his head lolling to the side like a slumbering child who had fallen asleep in the car.

On a whim, Relena pulled her smartphone out of her back pocket. Heero absolutely _hated_ having his picture taken. She had made the error of proposing a selfie once, at the Brooklyn Bridge Park, and had since avoided making that mistake again. Heero had nearly thrown her phone into the Hudson.

She didn't have _one_ picture of him, so she mustn't miss this opportunity. Not when he was looking so divine... and completely oblivious to the smartphone camera pointed at him. She snapped the picture (phone on _'mute'_ ), snickering like a naughty teenager. He would kill her if he ever found out.

She tucked the phone back in her pants pocket, grinning happily. Standing over him, Relena waited for Heero to register her presence. He didn't even stir. He must have exhausted himself walking on the beach in this heat.

Smiling softly, she reached to caress his hair, brushing his bangs away gently from his closed eyes. Slowly, her smile faded. His hair dangled low, touching under his nose, but it wasn't moving. And he was still so terribly pale. Alarmed, she pressed two trembling fingers to his neck.

"Heero?" she whispered, voice shaking.

No response. His chest wasn't moving.

She gasped and fell to her knees in front of him. She checked for a pulse again.

None.

"MOTHER!!!" she shrieked, flinging her arms to shove Heero off the chair. The lounger flipped over and Heero fell onto the decking, the empty weight of him thudding against the wood. She rolled him over quickly onto his back, his head rolling limply from side to side. She positioned herself next to him, and began chest compressions.

"MOTHER!!!" she screamed again, pushing hard at a frantic rate.

"Relena, wat er mis is?" _(What's wrong?)_ her mother huffed breathlessly as she rushed outside, holding a dishrag. Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw what was going on. She froze, panicked.

"Call 911!" Relena bellowed to snap the woman out of her daze. " _Hurry!_ "

She let go of Heero's chest and moved to tilt his head back. She took a lungful of air, her chest swelling so much it hurt. Pinching his nostrils shut, she dove-in for a mouth-to-mouth, blowing life into Heero's body.

His chest rose sharply.

Her mother gaped in shock.

"Mother – go – **_now!_** " Relena screamed at her, recommencing chest compressions. She pumped Heero's chest madly, counting to thirty while fervently mouthing the numbers. Sweat broke on her brow, dripping down her burning face.

Her mother still hadn't moved.

"MOEDER!!!"

Her mother finally stirred to life, rushing back inside to call an ambulance.

Alone on the balcony, Relena inhaled again and breathed desperately into Heero, before resuming chest compressions.

*          *          *

 

[1] Inspired by my fav GW fic of all times: [Heart of Glass by Flamika](https://raygunworks.net/flamikasfic/heartofglass.html)

[2] Frozen Teardrop, [Chapter 4, Part I – AC 186 Autumn](https://inchoate-oeuvre.livejournal.com/2463.html)[.](https://inchoate-oeuvre.livejournal.com/2463.html)

[3] People make fun of [this scene](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/160660101744/germainetrain-relena-has-never-done-or-said-a)[, ](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/160660101744/germainetrain-relena-has-never-done-or-said-a)but I totally get it.

[4] See [here](http://cinderellaincombatboots.tumblr.com/post/81883482712/the-shooting-star-she-saw-thoughts-and-highlights) for an interesting meta-essay about Relena's self-introduction.

[5] I nearly went with The Little Prince instead of Peter Pan (because of [this](http://cinderellaincombatboots.tumblr.com/post/82196253431/little-gw-things-11-the-little-prince-on) [comment](http://cinderellaincombatboots.tumblr.com/post/82196253431/little-gw-things-11-the-little-prince-on)), but in the end, I thought the parallels worked better with Wendy/Relena and Peter/Heero (also: J. Hook/Dr. J...)

[6] Based on [this headcanon](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/168990817879/hc-heeros-basic-training)[. ](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/168990817879/hc-heeros-basic-training)I believe Dr. J had to start Heero's education from scratch.

[7] [Gundam Wing Frozen Teardrop Special Drama CD](https://youtu.be/TwOacJ2FbOo?t=25s)

[8] Based on the [Episode Zero manga](http://mangakakalot.com/chapter/shin_kidou_senki_gundam_w_episode_zero/chapter_2)[.](http://mangakakalot.com/chapter/shin_kidou_senki_gundam_w_episode_zero/chapter_2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read more? You can either wait for next week's chapter, or leave me a review and I'll send you the entire story - a 70K long eBook! How about it? ^_~


	4. Chapter 4

"I really appreciate this," Relena acknowledged, forcing on a smile. She stood in the hallway outside of a closed apartment door, while a balding middle-aged man carrying a large set of keys unlocked it. He opened the door for her, gesturing her inside with a hairy hand.

"Take as much time as you need," he said gravely. "Call me when you're done."

"Thank you," she let out quietly, nodding her head at him before stepping into the doorway. The landlord left, his bundle of keys jingling with each step.

Relena stood in the doorway, a hand resting on the doorframe while she scanned the empty residence. It was a small Midtown West apartment; Preventer owned several of these furnished apartments around the city. The black hardwood floors and golden oak kitchen maintained a sleek modern finish. Bare yellow walls gave the room a clean but warm feel, and a red brick wall opposite of a simple leather sofa added some character.

Two tall and narrow windows overlooked the dense urban landscape, currently obscured by white blinds. She walked towards them first, lifting the shutters to expose a busy neighborhood and the Manhattan skyline. Gazing numbly at the apartment buildings and shops across the street, she felt a bit better; the pressure in her chest lifting somewhat. There was something about Hell's Kitchen's residential vibe that made her feel more at ease, like she was just an insignificant part of something much bigger, something that flowed and morphed as though breathing, moving ceaselessly forward – with or without her. For some reason, it made her feel right at home.

But this wasn't her home; it was Heero's. She had barely spent any time here. Her longest stay had been on Valentine's Day, when she had spent the night collecting empty liquor bottles from every possible surface, while Heero had slept off a nasty hangover. She hadn't gotten a good look at it since, and she was pleased to find it tidy and clean.

She inhaled a shaky breath and spun slowly on her heels to face the living room. Bright light poured in through the open windows, revealing a visible layer of dust coating the dark floor and flat screen TV hanging from the wall. The small oak kitchen was open to the living room, painfully desolate; not even a mug was left behind.

Heero lived like a monk.

The Spartan design was practical and tasteful, but it lacked a personal touch. She saw no photos of any kind, nor any notable decorative objects that didn't come with the apartment, such as the stylish light fixtures on the ceiling. She had come here thinking she might be able to find something of his to hold onto, but so far things didn't look very promising.

She cleaned a little, emptying the spoiled food from the fridge and taking out the trash. She found a bucket and a mop in a small utility closet in the kitchen and mopped the sleek black floorboards. Grunting, she scrubbed them hard, her arms jerking back and forth with angry strokes. There was no point to it, really, but it was something to do; a way to perhaps restore some order to the chaos.

Waiting for the floor to dry lest she leave footprints, Relena sat on the sofa, staring at the blank TV screen. She tried to recall if they had ever spent an evening sitting together on his couch, but somehow they had always ended up at her place in Queens, even if they had spent the evening in Manhattan. Not that they went out much. They never really dated like most couples did, but simply being in his presence had been enough. Lying sprawled together on the sofa, his arm draped around her casually as they watched television... it had always been enough.

She would be sitting in a tedious meeting at the office in midday and suddenly he'd text her _'Busy?'_ , which always raised a smile on her lips. _'Meeting'_ , she would reply and he would enquire _'Long?'_

Her smile would widen at that point. It was amazing how he could carry a conversation using only one word at a time. She would instantly know that he was already at her place – a small apartment she had rented in Queens once she had decided to stay in New York.

 _'Endless...'_ she'd text back and often the same reply would follow: _'Keys?'_

 _'The usual'_ , she would tell him where to find her key, and try to keep from giggling as she pictured the disapproving frown on his face. She had promised to change its location at least twice already, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

 _'Change it'_ , Heero would instruct her and she could feel the full force of his glare even through the simple text.

Honestly, things would have been so much simpler if he had agreed to take the spare key she had offered. But if Heero had wanted one, he would have taken it already. It was as simple as that.

Heero had visited her place often, even if he knew she'd be home late. He had trouble sleeping, but for some reason he'd sleep just fine in her bed. Sometimes, he'd come over just so he could catch a few hours of peaceful slumber. She would return from work or the university late at night to find him sleeping under her covers, a meal waiting in the oven. He wouldn't so much as stir when she'd walked around the room and flip on the lights, getting ready for bed. If nightmares plagued him nonetheless, he'd sleep well into the late morning hours and she'd go about her day without bothering him, studying at the kitchen table over coffee, comforted by his mere presence. Once awake, he would shuffle groggily into the kitchen in sloppy sweats and messy hair, pour himself a cup of coffee of his own, and sit without saying a word.

It was all so perfectly natural, so comfortable. She missed the quiet evenings she'd spend hunched over her books while he prepared dinner; he'd often make a wonderful dish made of eggs poached in tomato sauce, chili peppers and onions, and spiced with cumin – a Middle Eastern recipe he had picked up from his time there with Preventer. The mere smell of it would make her mouth water and hinder her concentration, especially when he made the effort to accompany the dish with fresh bread from a local bakery. He'd serve the meal to the table and she'd clear some of her books away to make room. Usually, Heero would seat himself at the opposite end, to allow her to keep working without clutter. Sometimes, they'd sit on the couch afterwards and watch TV. Whole evenings would go by in perfect, cozy, silence, before relapsing to tension and chaos, and then again.

Relena closed her eyes, her breath wavering against the overwhelming need to burst into tears. She fought the urge, swallowing her sobs with an audible gulp, and then reached into her jeans pocket to pull out her phone. Her fingers swiped across the screen, entering the photo gallery. The stubborn droplets flooded her eyes as she gazed upon the last photo she had taken:

 

Heero, sitting slumped in a lounge chair on her mother's porch, head lolling, his face bluish and lifeless. That this was the only photo she had of him at all was unbearable.

A small sob broke from her throat. Relena shivered, raising a fist to her mouth. It was macabre, she knew; she should delete the picture, but so much of him had been eradicated already  that she just didn't have the heart to erase this as well. With bleary eyes, she studied his serene expression, giving a forlorn smile. It made him look so peaceful.

The floor dried. It was a very nice floor, she mused, staring at the sleek floorboards beyond the glass coffee table. It was a nice apartment, all in all. Void, but still inviting. Heero wasn't one to care for something as impractical as home styling, but she did spot a couple of items sitting on a floating shelf hanging on the brick wall across the room – a thick book, and a small plant inside a tin-can decorated in blue and white. Curious, she went to get a closer look.

It was a small food can, filled with gravel, a plastic cactus sticking out of it. A blue and white-striped sticker covered the can, along with bold white writing: **_Status:Cactus_**. Relena had no idea what it meant, but she smiled anyway. Maybe he had found it amusing.

She turned the tin-can to look at the other side, but found no clue as to why Heero would choose to place this particular item on a shelf while the rest of his apartment remained barren of any knickknacks. Then again, with Heero, one always had to look beyond the obvious. She lifted the can and looked at its metallic bottom. The words _"Made in Israel"_ were engraved there in small writing. It must be a souvenir from the three years he had spent in the Middle East, she gathered, and placed it back on the shelf, smiling a little to herself.

Heero had once mentioned hooking up with a fellow agent during his time in Tel Aviv. _'Nothing serious'_ , he had said; _'she ended it'_. She had reciprocated by telling him about her own failed relationship with a prior boyfriend, during her undergraduate studies. Maybe Heero's old girlfriend (or whichever definition fitted her – because he had said that he never really dated other women) had given him this silly little cactus as a gift. At any rate, it would seem that Heero had a sentimental streak after all.

Pleased with her finding, Relena turned to examine the book next, pulling it cautiously off the shelf, for it seemed old and delicate. The book was thick and heavy, with a vintage black leather cover decorated with gold lining. The title **"Moby Dick"** was embossed in bold gold letters on the front. She smiled again, contented to know that he was familiar with such a classic. It was no "Peter Pan", but still.

She flipped it open, relishing in the nostalgic wooden scent of a dusty old book. The pages were yellow, and the print far too small to read comfortably. It was an antique, no doubt valuable. Leafing through the first few pages, she found a handwritten dedication inside:

 

_Not just because you're always such a huge dick, but because you're more like Ahab now. I'm sorry about your leg. Here's 600 VERY EXPENSIVE pages to help you pass the time between PT._

_I know you'll be back on your feet (or should I say foot?) in no time. There are still many voyages ahead._

_Duo._

Tearful, Relena smiled. She had no idea whether Heero had kept in regular touch with the other former pilots, but it seemed like he might have, or at least they were still there for each other when times were hard. Obviously, Heero had appreciated Duo's dark sense of humor, because he had kept it. It was the most personal item she had seen so far in his apartment.

Gratified, she placed the book back on the shelf, sliding it respectfully back in place. It felt wrong to take it. She had come here to find a keepsake. Something intimate. Something of _his_. Something of his to make her own. Something to hold onto. This book wasn't for her to take.

She wandered towards the open kitchen, separated from the living room by a narrow breakfast bar and a single stool. It appeared to have served as a workstation rather than a place to eat, since a sleek silver notebook computer and its various peripheral devices took up most of the space, along with an elegant pen and memo holder. A small wooden coaster was the only evidence that the bar had been used for its original purpose. Relena doubted he had dined on that table, unless he had been eating in front of his computer.

Her hand glided across the laptop's smooth silver alloy, caressing the closed lid as though touching him in some way. She took a seat in front of it, lifting the lid, and stared at her reflection on the dark screen, at her pale face, her disheveled hair; unkempt as only a grieving woman could be. Relena sighed. She now understood her mother's loneliness after her father died in a most profound and intimate way. How could she have abandoned her mother to this pain back then? How selfish she was as a daughter!

No wonder her mother had let her go without a fight; she had already been beaten by the grief for the man she loved. Relena had grieved for her father too, but it wasn't the same.

She realized that now.

The way she missed Heero, the way she now suffered... it wasn't the same. She had no right feeling like a widow, but the grief was relentless; the loss far too great for only one person to contain, and hers was the only heart broken over Heero. His absence left such a gap in the world, yet no one was any the wiser.

She snapped the lid shut. There was no point in booting up his laptop. It was most certainly password protected. Heero was the kind of man who'd take his secrets to the grave.

Her eyes shifted slowly to study the sleek accessories placed neatly next to the computer: a mouse, a portable drive, a headset and a double joystick controller, which seemed strangely outdated compared to the rest of the modern devices. She frowned, finding it odd, and reached for the bulky apparatus. It nearly slipped from her grasp, because she didn't expect it to be so heavy. Lifting it with both hands, Relena examined it closely.

It was a wireless device with a heavy metallic base and two controller columns sticking out in opposite directions – one pointing to the left, the other to the right, like inverse thumbs. She couldn't imagine what use he could have had for such a strange device; the joysticks weren't far enough apart to be used as a two-hand controller. If separated, they seemed more fitting to serve as an aircraft side-stick controller, similar to the main control stick she had seen Heero work in the PSC.

Leaning her head closer, she examined the sticks more thoroughly, noting the tiny writing carved on the inner side of each: _'XXXG-01W'_. _Oh..._ She deduced and smiled sheepishly.

This must be one of the trinkets he had mentioned back in the PSC hangar. They were Wing's controllers.

Relena smiled, eyes misty as she gazed fondly at the twin joysticks. Heero must have built this contraption as a sort of trophy, a personal memento to keep his past from being completely erased.

According to historical accounts, the Wing Gundam had been destroyed in space after absorbing a direct hit from the battleship Libra's main cannon, when her brother had attempted to kill Treize Khushrenada. Official records stated that the Wing Gundam had disintegrated in the devastating path of Libra's canon, and yet Lady Une – it's pilot at the time – had survived. Therefore, rumor had it that Wing's head and torso had prevailed somehow; not a far-fetched theory, considering Wing had survived Heero's self-detonation earlier in the war. Like its pilot, the Wing Gundam had been nearly indestructible.

It was safe to assume that Preventer had gotten their hands on Wing's remains at some point (with Une being the Agency's director and all). Maybe Heero had gotten wind of it somehow (a plausible scenario, considering he located such dangerous remnants for a living), and worked his magic to get his hands on this rare "trinket".

As Heero had said back in the Barrens, his secret keepsakes were harmless. He was their rightful owner, anyway. Relena would love to know the full story behind this precious relic standing inconspicuously on a modest breakfast bar, hidden in plain sight. What she wouldn't give to hear him tell it instead of speculating about all the things she still didn't know about him...

Despondent, Relena placed the double-joystick back in its place. It wasn't hers to take either.

She pushed off the stool and stood up to face the spotless kitchen. She rummaged through it, opening drawers, cabinets, looking up at the top shelves... hungry for anything personal. She found a sealed whiskey bottle in the cupboard above the sink. A test of will, no doubt (and a big _'no no'_ in any AA book, that much was certain). He had been looking to challenge himself, like always, risking temptation.

Thinking she could use a drink, Relena reached a hand up to grab the bottle. When she lifted it, a pen rolled forward, scraping quietly against the shelf. She frowned and rose on her tiptoes to get a better look inside the cupboard. A small notepad lay there as well; it had been hidden behind the wide whiskey bottle. Intrigued, she set the bottle aside and reached for it instead.

It was a military notepad; the waterproof pages a faded-green color. The first page was scribbled with dozens of angry **_~~IIII~~_** marks – all of the times he had been tempted to open the bottle, no doubt. But the whiskey remained sealed. He had been determined enough to resist, and she was proud of him for it. It couldn't have been easy, knowing the bitter drop was just a plastic seal away. That was so Heero. He was ruthless that way; his stone-hard defiance almost masochistic in nature. But he was also strong enough to withstand such self-torture. It was what kept him going, fueled by self-loathing and remorse.

Her breath shuddered. She felt like crying again, but she had done enough of that already. She fought the tears, and flipped the first page over to see what else he had scribbled on the battered little notepad. The next few pages were filled with actual writing. She felt a pang of something awful or another when her eyes fell on the small and condensed letters. She couldn't recall ever seeing his handwriting before, and it was so painfully _his_.

She read what he had written:

**03.09.206 Because it's hard.**

**03.13.206 Because I need to.**

**03.17.206 Because it's too quiet.**

**03.23.206 Because nightmares.**

Heero had filled the notepad with sketchy excuses, giving name to the reasons why he had opened the cupboard with the intent to drink. Listing the date was probably another way to face his flaw, to acknowledge its unwavering persistence and fight back. Perhaps, also, it was a form of self-flagellation, a way to remind himself of his weakness, of the depravity behind his will to drink the pain away. Knowing the problem was half the solution. It must have helped him identify the cause of his hurt and therefore deal with it.

Keeping the bottle was foolish, but the notepad made it admirable.

Relena flipped further through the pages, reading more of his helpless confessions through her tears; a few of them spilled onto the paper, smudging the blue ink.

**03.25.206 Because I'm tired.**

**03.30.206 Because I need something more.**

**04.02.206 Nightmares.**

**04.07.206 Because of that STUPID documentary!**

About the war, broadcasted on every anniversary of Operation Meteor. They hardly ever got it right. She should have offered to watch a silly movie instead, but was nearly impossible to watch a movie with him. Heero was one tough critic, coming down hard on any unrealistic portrayal of the world, especially when it came to action films.

**04.08.206 Because I blew it.**

Her birthday. She had expected a romantic gesture of some kind, something along the lines of leaving her a small teddy bear, or just a card left behind somewhere, as he had done ten years ago, but Heero had done nothing of the sort. He hadn't thought it necessary. When she had confronted him about it, he had lashed out at her, hissing a nasty _'I'm not in this to play your stupid games!'_ as he stomped out of her apartment. It had been their first big fight, one she had ended up apologizing for, just to get him back. Apparently, Heero had also agonized over it.

**04.09.206 Because I don't know shit.**

**04.10.206 Because I don't know how to fix this.**

**04.11.206 Because I know it's here.**

**04.12.206 Because I want to get better.**

**04.14.206 Because she shouldn't have to apologize.**

**04.16.206 Because I need help.**

It hurt seeing these words in his handwriting. The more she read, the harder it got to read through the blur of tears.

**04.19.206 Because I need something. Anything.**

**04.21.206 Because I'm still fighting this.**

**04.23.206 Because it's not even there but it hurts!**

**04.27.206 It hurts.**

**04.29.206 It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!**

He meant his leg; phantom pain. Not that he had ever admitted it, but she knew it was a very real part of an amputee's life. He was good at masking his pain, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Heero had suffered in private, and this small ragged notepad was obviously his only true confidant.

**05.03.206 Because I want to.**

**05.07.206 I really want to.**

**05.13.206 Because I was mean and I hate it.**

**05.21.206 Because I don't know how to do this.**

**05.24.206 Because I can't anymore. I just can't.**

She moaned, and covered her mouth to stop the sound from escaping her lips, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, breathing in deep. Why hadn't he come to her with these hurts? Why this notepad and not her?

She continued reading:

**05.28.206 Because I need to do better.**

**06.01.206 Because I want to fuck her, OK?!**

**06.06.206 Because I fucked up and left.**

**06.10.206 Because I need her to come back.**

**06.14.206 Because it'll make me better at this.**

Sex had been so difficult at first. All those months of trying to get over one relationship hurdle after the other, Relena had thought she was the only one struggling to make it work, but Heero had been struggling too, nearly resorting to drinking again. Getting to know each other in bed, learning how to fight and make up as a couple, learning to accept each other's flaws, to open up, to let someone else in... It took courage. It hadn't been easy, for either of them.

Relena clutched the little notepad close to her heart and bowed her head, smiling sadly. He hadn't opened the bottle, and she admired him for it.

As she read on, the intervals between excuses became shorter at around the time he had returned to work:

**06.19.206 Because of fucking Baker!**

**06.21.206 Because too much, too fast.**

**06.25.206 Because I still have to take care of shit.**

**06.27.206 Because nothing changed.**

**06.30.206 Because some things did change.**

**07.01.206 Because I want to change too.**

She grimaced.

**07.02.206 Because we're going out to that party.**

**07.05.206 Because everyone else was drinking.**

**07.06.206 Because I want to be like everyone else.**

**07.07.206 Because no one will ever know if I did.**

**07.08.206 Just a sip. Please.**

Relena inhaled a trembling breath. She never should have asked him to come to that Fourth of July party. He wasn't ready.

**07.11.206 Just because.**

**07.16.206 Because everything.**

**07.22.206 Because she's driving me NUTS and I don't understand ANY of this!**

**07.26.206 Because she doesn't get it.**

**07.29.206 Because I don't get it either.**

So all that time, she had been walking around feeling like a martyr, convincing herself that she was a victim of his foul and unpredictable mood swings, but she had hurt him just as much as he had hurt her. He just never let it show.

It took every last bit of mental strength she could muster to keep reading.

**07.31.206 Because something is always missing.**

**08.02.206 Because I'm just so empty all the time.**

**08.04.206 Because I'm not sleeping.**

**08.06.206 Because she's busy.**

**8.09.206 Because I can't stop thinking.**

**08.11.206 Because it's too quiet again.**

That had been right around the time she had been studying for her finals that summer. They hadn't seen each other for a couple of weeks back then. He had missed her.

**08.14.206 Because it's either this or a bullet to the head. I'm so tired!**

**08.19.206 Because I'm alone tonight.**

**08.27.206 Because I said yes about Labor Day.**

**08.31.206 Because it's gotten too real.**

**09.01.206 Because I want to be real again.**

That was the last reason he had written, just before they had left to the Hamptons for Labor Day weekend.

 _'I_ _want to be real again.'_

He was afraid of failing her, but he had been willing to try. This was when he had decided to be honest about himself, about his life. This was why he had been so frank with her mother. He wanted to make it real, to make _them_ real. It hadn't been a random act of sincerity, nor a spiteful ploy to make her look bad in front of her mother. It had been his way of committing. He had offered himself to her by choice; a premeditated decision he had taken after she had asked to introduce him to her mother.

Relena had never realized just _how much_ it really meant. She was aware it had been a big step, maybe even a premature one, but it never occurred to her that Heero would take it as a sign of serious commitment. She didn't know he had the necessary social intelligence to come to this conclusion, and be daunted by it.

 _'Tell me something,'_ she had asked of him the night before it all went to hell, _'Something about the real you. Something... about Seiki.'_

Even though it must have been difficult for him, Heero had obliged her, telling her about his father, or at least the man he had suspected was his father. She hoped she had managed to convey just how much she appreciated him for sharing more of himself with her. Hopefully, she had assured him that he had no reason to fear being _"real"_ with her. If nothing else, it would have given him one less reason to crave a drink.

Sighing, Relena placed the notepad back in the cupboard and closed it slowly. The notepad was way too intimate. It would be wrong to take it. If anything, Heero would want it destroyed.

She moved on to the bedroom, hoping to find something of his she could keep. The same red brick wall from the living room served as the accent wall to an otherwise insipid room. Bare yellow walls, black floorboards, a queen-size bed, a nightstand and a small closet. A wide window overlooked the same street as the living room, offering a nice view of the city from the bed.

Lingering in the doorway, Relena stared numbly at the neatly-made bed, her vision blurring as she gazed at the white sheets. The only time she had visited this room had been on Valentine's Day, dragging a heavily intoxicated Heero to bed to sleep off his stupor. He had mistaken her actions for something else entirely, and began taking his pants off.

 _'Heero, what the hell?!'_ She had exclaimed, appalled, and he had frozen, his pants hanging down low enough to reveal the perfectly toned triangle lines outlining his groin. He had stared at her, stumped. _'We are **not** having sex!' _She had clarified, shaking her head in outrage.

Realizing his mistake, Heero had raised a hand to hide his face, bashful. _'You should go...'_ he had mumbled in apology; _'This was a bad idea. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see this...'_

Wishing to comfort him, she had reached her hands up to cup his face gently. She had drawn him into a hug, lowering his head against her shoulder. _'You don't scare me, Heero,'_ she had whispered, _'You never did... It's okay. It's okay... I'm here.'_

But her words had never been enough. He had pulled away from her, shaking his head. _'No... You're not,'_ he had protested, moaning the words out miserably. _'You're here for the semester. I can't rely on you and then... then alone again, readjusting... I... I can't...'_

That night had been the first and only time she had seen him cry, hiding his face with both hands.

 _'I hate this... all of it!'_  he had wept, _'It's just... It's too hard! Everything is so... It's all so hard!'_

Relena had watched, horrified and completely at a loss by his broken sobs. Shocked to see him crumble before her very eyes, she had nearly left without ever coming back. It was Heero who had sought her out a few weeks later, after detox. He came to apologize, when all he really had to apologize for was being human. She wasn't proud of it, but it had taken her some time to forgive him for such frailty, for being a mere mortal and not the hero she had worshiped in her teens. It had been a final step towards growing up.

She entered the bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She ran her fingers back and forth over the sheets, staring blankly at the floor at her feet, recalling how she had cleaned Heero's vomit off the very same spot on that godawful night.

Leaning down, she laid herself across his bed, drawing her legs up to her knees. She nuzzled her face in his pillow, inhaling deeply. It smelled clean, like laundry, but she wished so much it would smell of him. It wasn't any scent in particular, but a combination of familiar fragrances; the shampoo he used, his deodorant and shaving cream, even the detergent he used to wash his clothes – always the same brands. They all blended into a specific odor that was uniquely his; fresh, clean and always pleasant. Her own bed sheets still smelled of him, but here...

Relena closed her eyes, fighting back more tears. Even those traces of him had been erased. She had to find something, _anything_ of his to take with her. Even if she left his apartment with a bag of bathroom toiletries – she was going to leave with _something_.

Determined, she got up and walked over to his closet; a plain dark brown wardrobe with two sliding doors and two wide bottom drawers. The first door revealed a double hanging section; the top one filled with sets of Preventer uniform – khaki dress shirts and dark grey trousers – and the bottom one with an assortment of clothes which also required hanging, including his Preventer duty jacket and the black leather jacket he had worn on their first date. She smiled weakly. Black leather suited him; he had carried off the casual-elegant look well.

She removed the jacket from the hanger carefully, as though it might crumble at her touch. She slipped her bare arms inside the cool sleeves. The smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey still lingered on the leather, engulfing her in a heady combination of long-forgotten scents. He must have worn this jacket whenever he had gone out to drink. It smelled of a time he had worked to put behind him. Finally, a trace she could hold onto, however inappropriate it might be.

The second sliding door revealed neatly folded clothes on a shelving unit, sorted by type and color. Organizing was one of his very few guilty pleasures, one he never missed a chance to practice. He had even rearranged her own closet a few months back, having nothing better to do with his time (although he had argued that he was doing it to save her life no less, informing her that a messy closet could be regarded as the bane of one's existence, and, conversely, an organized one could help her find what she needed and get ready quickly and efficiently). Efficiency was the name of the game, and, according to Heero Yuy, it all began with a well-organized closet.

She laughed to herself, recalling how he had scowled at her for calling him out as a total neat-freak. _'Better than being a disgusting slob,'_ he had grumbled defensively, folding a pair of her jeans (not before he had ironed them all!) and putting it neatly in its newly designated closet space. She had accused him of "OCDing" all over her wardrobe, but she loved him so much for his odd little quirks. If ironing clothes was his idea of fun – who was she to complain?

She ran her hand gently over the level piles of clothes. She was about to draw a shirt out of a meticulously folded pile, just to smell it, but then pulled her hand away. It would surely drive him mad if anyone should ever touch his perfectly organized closet. She should leave it undisturbed.

She closed the door and kneeled to take a peek inside the drawers. It would be absurd to take his underwear, so she didn't bother with the first drawer. She went straight for the bottom one, and found it occupied by a wide box that took up all the space; it was branded with a familiar courier delivery services company logo. She recognized the company, for it was one of very few that delivered overnight from the Colonies. It was labeled _"Express"_ , no less. It must have cost a small fortune to deliver such a large package to Earth overnight.

It came as no surprise when she read the sender's name on the shipping note. The package had been sent to Heero by Quatre R. Winner, making its way from the L4 Cluster to a Brussels hospital address on November 15th 201. That would have been right around the time Heero had lost his leg and left the Middle East to recover back in Europe.

Privacy be damned, Relena opened the package and pulled out a slim black case, old and battered; a violin case.

She gasped, already knowing what precious treasure she was holding in her hands. Trembling a little, she placed the case carefully on the floor and unfastened the locks. Inside, she found an antiquated violin and a plain white A5 envelope resting on top of it. The envelope felt heavy in her hand, containing something other than a letter. She shook it and two dark-blue passports fell out, engraved with a silver Colony symbol, along with a folded yellow stationery branded with the _Winner Inc._ logo.

She opened the passports. The first belonged to a man: mid-thirties, Caucasian, brown hair, dark eyes, strong eyebrows, a chiseled jawline, and a stern face. He was very handsome. The second one belonged to a young boy: Asian, messy brown hair, blue eyes, a small pointy nose, and a tough expression on his little face. Heero.

A wide smile formed on her lips at the sight of him. At first glance, he seemed to be glaring at the camera, but upon a closer look, she could tell he was just putting on a brave face, a picture of masked vulnerability he lacked almost entirely as an adult: jaw clenched, small shoulders pointing up tensely, tight lips pouting, and eyes a tad dopey under his furrowed brows. He was trying too hard, like always. A six-year-old boy bravely affecting indifference.

Comparing the two passport photos, she concluded that the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Not so much for child-Heero, but she could definitely see the resemblance between Heero as an adult and the man who had taken him in after his mother died. Heero's suspicions about him had to be true; the two had to be related.

Heero's name was listed as _Odin Lowe Jr._ , and the man as _Odin Lowe_. The names must have been mere aliases, the passports probably fake, but their significance was very much real. They were a connection to a past already erased. This was something Heero could hold onto.

She let out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sob, clutching the old passports close to her heart. She was so happy he had this, at least, and wondered why he hadn't mentioned it when he had told her about Odin. Maybe he had saved the story for another time. Unfortunately, he had run out of it much sooner than expected. But she would not cry about it now. Not again.

Instead, she opened the letter, unfolding it slowly:

**Heero,**

**One of my excavation crews found this during reconstruction of L3-X18999 and it has since made its way to me. I have no doubt that this should belong with you instead.**

**It might not be much, but I hope this eases your pain somewhat. I was sorry to hear about your leg. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help.**

**Take care,**

**Quatre**

Overcome with both happiness and grief, Relena choked out a sad chuckle. She was happy to find something so personal of his, but, at the same time, it stung, knowing she had only found it because she had snooped through his personal belongings, and not because he had chosen to share it with her. Heero obviously didn't wish to share this rare link to his past, because otherwise he would have told her about how it had made its way back to him by a miraculous act of fate. Finding it here while he was gone felt like an unforgivable breach of his trust, and yet...

She lifted the violin out of the case, holding it with trembling arms. It seemed so frail and ancient; the wood worn and covered in tiny scratches, some strings torn or missing. Heero had told her about falling asleep to the sound of this violin as a child.

_'It was a family heirloom. From Earth.'_

If she were him, she would have gotten it repaired and restored to its former glory. It was a beautiful instrument; a historical treasure that linked Earth and Space. Reverent of its grave importance, Relena ran her fingers slowly over the wood. She felt something carved on the back, behind the violin's narrow waist. Turning it over carefully, she found a name etched in the wood, the letters fuzzy and faded under peeling layers of polish. She traced the pads of her fingers against the etched writing, reading like a blind man. It spelled _"Lowensky"_. Could that be Lowe's real surname? Could it be Heero's?

There was so much more she wanted to learn about him. So much more he could have learned about himself. Heero had felt that his life was being erased, all traces of who he was discarded or destroyed. He had said that space had taken everything away from him. Preventer and the ESUN's DDR policies had taken the rest. All he had left were a few trinkets he had kept, and this uncertain link to a past still in question.

She had to make this right. She would make him whole again. She would retain and preserve even the smallest scrap of his forgotten past. His past would become her keepsake.

*          *          *

The I-495 streaked past Relena's windshield in a blur of grey and green against a cloudy sky made duller by her sunglasses. She still wore Heero's jacket, her frizzy blonde hair cascading down the black leather on each side of the open zipper.

Traffic ran smoothly along the Long Island Expressway so early in the afternoon. Her navigation app placed her in the Hamptons in about ninety more minutes or so. She sat alone behind the wheel, the violin case resting next to her on the passenger's seat. A hefty gym bag rested on the floor in front of it. The radio played in the background, the volume too low to actually hear the music, but strong enough to break the heavy silence. She had been driving for close to two hours, making her way back to her mother's beach house. She had made a stop by her apartment in Queens after leaving Hell's Kitchen, just to grab a few more things before heading back to Montauk.

Her mother had extended her stay in the US after what happened to Heero, offering her support however she could. Relena had practically moved into her mother's beach house, having nothing left for her anywhere else. All that mattered to her was lying next to her on the passenger seat, and back in the Hamptons.

She was nearing her exit, passing by the Long Island Pine Barrens Preserve. She tried not to, but her eyes drifted sideways searching for the dirt road Heero had taken when driving them into the woods. She spotted it and slowed down, an angry driver honking behind her. She opened her window and flipped him off. The fucking bastard.

She had rented another car and came back for the one they left behind about a week after Heero had gone into cardiac arrest. It was right where he had left it, two miles away from the lake and the secret hangar. Her mother had joined her, and even though she must have been outraged at realizing their lie, she had kept her mouth shut. There had been a big fine to pay with the rental agency, but her mother had paid it; anything to erase the unwavering misery from Relena's face. It was a small blessing.

As for the PSC, she had left it untouched back in the patch of woods next to Montauk Airport. Her mother had shown her the Sunday paper a couple of weeks back, stunned to read that an old war relic had been discovered so close to them. Apparently, a local hiker had found the PSC at the banks of the pond and reported it to the authorities. Preventer was on the case, which would have surely involved Heero if he were still active.

He would have found the irony amusing.

Relena arrived at her mother's place late in the afternoon. Exhausted, she stepped out of the battered old car and stretched her arms over her head. Her mother came out to greet her. Relena nodded a tired hello and circled the car to open the passenger door. She took the gym bag first, slinging it over her shoulder. The autumn air was chillier by the ocean. A cold breeze tousled her hair as it swept through the stormy beach below. Good thing she had brought a jacket...

Relena pulled the violin case out of the car and slammed the door shut.

"How was your trip?" her mother asked with an uneasy smile as she approached, reaching her hand out to accept the case. Relena refused to give it away.

"Fine," she grumbled, tugging the gym bag up roughly. It kept sliding off her shoulder, Heero's jacket being two sizes too big, and walked towards the house without waiting for a response. Her mother followed close behind.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked as they stepped onto the porch.

Relena sent a quick angry glance towards the empty lounger to her right. "Not really," she muttered and hastened her pace towards the door. She should _burn_ that damn chair. Have a big fucking bonfire on the beach and watch it turn to ashes!

Spinning on her heels to face her mother, she pointed at the lounger. "Get rid of it," she snapped.

"R-Relena..." her mother stuttered.

"Get a new one. I don't care. Just get rid of it!" Relena repeated and whirled back around. "I can't look at it anymore!" She stomped inside, leaving the front door open as she rushed upstairs to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her, angry with the world.

*          *          *

Soft twilight filtered through the clouds, falling on the bed to create a web of shadows across the wrinkled white sheets. Relena's gym bag lay open on the bed, some of its content spilling onto the mattress: a few articles of her clothing, Wing's joysticks, and a bottle of men's shampoo. Despite herself, she had ended up taking some of his things; the first pieces of a puzzle she was determined to solve.

As the sun set into a grey ocean, Relena sat out on the balcony, her long wet hair cascading down her back – dark blonde against black leather. She had showered using his shampoo, longing for his scent lest she'd forget it. It was too soon to forget.

She sat with both her legs braced against the safety railing, hugging her knees as she gazed at the grey ocean. The chair next to her, the one Heero had occupied on their last night together, that one night when they had _really_ talked, remained painfully empty. His whiskey bottle stood on the table between the two chairs, along with the green military notepad and the blue ball-pen he had used to write his confessions. The bottle was now open, the plastic seal discarded under the table after having been blown by the cold wind.

Her mother had knocked on her door a while ago, asking if she wanted to join her for dinner. Relena had declined the invitation. She sat outside, staring at the sunset over the water. Not long ago, this beach had seemed so vibrant with color. Now, everything paled in comparison. Familiar things seemed so alien all of a sudden, distorted and strange. She had begun hating inanimate objects, like that damn lounger. It wasn't the chair's fault Heero had been sitting on it when his heart had decided to stop beating. She knew that. But she still hated that chair; hated everything for being so completely out of place.

Relena reached for the whiskey and took a sip out the bottle, glaring ahead at the waves. She sighed, placing the liquor back on the table, and reached for the notepad instead. She picked up the pen and leafed through the pages until she reached the last sentence he had written.

**09.01.206 Because I want to be real again.**

The wind blew wildly through her wet hair, and she shivered, closing Heero's jacket around her chest. She propped the small notepad against her folded knees, clicked on the pen and added her own words underneath:

_**09.28.206   Because I miss you.** _

_**Because I love you.** _

_**Because I'm sorry.** _

*          *          *

 

[1] See [here](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/173894969174/heeros-inheritance-a-photoset-from-my-latest-hc)[.](http://gundamwing-ellesmith.tumblr.com/post/173894969174/heeros-inheritance-a-photoset-from-my-latest-hc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read more? You can either wait for next week's chapter, or leave me a review and I'll send you the entire story - a 70K long eBook! How about it? ^_~


	5. Chapter 5

More than just the leaves changed when fall came to the Hamptons. Despite its glitzy summer reputation, the South Fork of Long Island was most charming in autumn. Post-Labor Day weekend, when the rowdy tourists had packed-up their sun hats and headed back to New York, the locals emerged from their homes to reclaim their towns and beaches. The crowds thinned, the people suddenly much friendlier. Stores slashed prices. Local farm stands and vineyards celebrated their bountiful harvests. Best yet, the traffic went from being oppressive to merely irritating.

Seated behind the wheel of an old sedan she had barely afforded, Relena heaved a weary sigh as she brought the car to a halt in front of a long line of vehicles standing before a red light. Tapping her fingers on the wheel, she waited, gazing at the dense vegetation on both sides of the road; lush green tinted with orange hues, and a small touch of red. Traffic crept slowly towards the green traffic light, before it changed again and she had to stop. She exhaled sharply, agitated.

 _Serves me right for complaining about how he never lets me drive_ , she rolled her eyes at the thought, and smiled a little, thinking of Heero. He would have said the same thing.

Montauk Highway had become a daily source of pain, albeit not as bad as it had been in summer. Between endless traffic jams and overstuffed restaurants, the Hamptons were hectic during the hotter months. It was easy to think of them as an ephemeral, magical-bubble-of-a-place, but in autumn the Hamptons became quieter; small-townish and a little ghostly. Their true colors were revealed in the off-season, filled with orange pumpkin patches, red apple pickings and the breathtaking beauty of the fall foliage against the backdrop of cloudy grey shorelines, hauntingly empty streets and dreary cemeteries. Relena found that it was the difference between night and day after Labor Day.

History in the Hamptons was thick. In the fall, the vast sweep of the past somehow became more accessible; something to do with the alchemy of wind and drifting leaves, no doubt. Street names channeled the past as she drove through Southampton. They were curious names, which were never given much thought to during the summer when they rolled off the tongue of a local man giving directions to this or that restaurant, but in the fall, they lingered in one's mind: Flying Point Road, Mill Creek Close, Meeting House Lane. Relena took a right turn off Old Town Road and onto the latter, driving down a street surrounded by green lanes of grass and tall trees of orange, yellow and red.

It was drizzling as she stepped out of her battered old car in front of a large red-bricked building complex. The raindrops pattered on her (Heero's) jacket as she walked toward the entrance, carrying the violin case. Making her way through an endless array of hallways, she reached her destination and paused at the door. She hesitated, staring at the doorknob while clutching the violin case with white knuckles. Inhaling deeply, she opened the door and stepped quietly inside.

Relena headed straight for a small round wooden table by the window, overlooking a lovely golden maple tree towering over Meeting House Lane. She placed the case carefully on the table, her back turned to the rest of the room. Without uttering a word, she opened the case, revealing the shiny violin lying inside; it seemed brand new. Smiling, she reached to lift it out of the case, handling it as though it was glass. Turning it over, she gazed proudly at the crafted letters on the back: **_"Lowensky"_** _._ She ran her fingers over the etching, smiling, pleased.

She had given the violin to a specialist, asking him to restore the ancient instrument, investing almost two salaries in its repairs. The artisan had exceeded her greatest expectations; it had come out perfect. Smiling in accomplishment, Relena turned to face the room, holding out the violin in both hands.

"I brought you something," she said. She was answered only by quiet steady beeping. Her face fell. She gazed at the single bed occupying the small room, standing under a wide wall-to-wall window overlooking a busy ICU hallway. Nurses and doctors walked back and forth beyond the window. A young nurse stopped to peek in through the open shutters, waving her hand in greeting. Relena smiled back, although her lips felt too heavy to pull it off convincingly. She sighed, lowering the violin.

Heero lay unconscious on the bed, an array of wires and tubes sneaking under the blanket covering his frail form, connecting him to various monitors and medical devices, such as a ventilator and a pump. His life was now in the hands of an Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation machine. The ECMO provided cardiac and respiratory support to his failed heart and lungs. His doctors called it _Ecmo_ , as if there was anything endearing about the array of tubes, valves, and pumps.

The Ecmo drew blood from Heero's body through a cannula in his thigh, and channeled it into a roller pump that served as his heart. The pump then sent the blood through an oxygenator, which served as an artificial lung. A nasogastric tube provided nutrition through his nose, while a breathing tube tunneled into his throat. Various other tubes and bags removed waste from his body, and an IV line dripped fluids and medication into his vein. The sight was ghastly, but she had gotten used to it by now.

It had taken the ambulance close to twenty minutes to respond to their call, and almost an hour before they had arrived to a Southampton hospital. Montauk's notorious emergency response time was the worst, even more so in Labor Day traffic. Helplessly waiting for medical assistance, Relena had continued performing CPR until she had exhausted herself completely. Her mother stepped in, asking for instructions. They took turns, performing chest compressions until one of them got tired, then traded off with the other, until the medics had finally arrived. Heero had gone into cardiac arrest again on the way to the hospital, and again in the E.R., where dozens of clinicians from critical care medicine and other specialties worked frantically to save his life.

Doctors had quickly determined that blood clots were blocking the main arteries in Heero's lungs, a condition called pulmonary embolism. The initial clot had likely developed in Heero's amputated leg and traveled to his lungs, cutting off the blood flow to his organs and causing him to go into cardiac arrest.

 _'It's quite common in post-traumatic lower limb amputees,'_ Dr. Grabelsky, Heero's ICU physician, had explained at the time. Apparently, Heero had taken anticoagulants regularly as a precaution, but he had left his meds back in the Pine Barrens. They assumed the clot had developed in his residual leg after hours of sitting immobile in Labor Day traffic.

 _'In addition to the danger of clotting in the residual leg,'_ the doctor had elaborated, taking off his eyeglasses to rub his tired eyes, _'psychological stress and patients' often-deviant behavior hold grim consequences.'_

She had nodded her head dazedly, her numbed mind barely capable of processing half of what he had said. She supposed he meant Heero's drinking _._

 _'Many suffer from increased morbidity and mortality from cardiovascular disease,'_ Dr. Grabelsky had concluded _. 'For what it's worth,'_ he had added softly, _'the CPR you gave him broke the initial clot into smaller ones, saving his life. He never would have made it so far if not for you.'_

But the smaller clots had still circulated in Heero's bloodstream. The E.R. crew gave Heero powerful "clot-busting" medications, but his condition had remained grave for the longest time. It had been over a month. Heero's condition was stable, for now, but it was still touch-and-go.

Relena had arrived today foolishly expecting a well-deserved miracle. If anyone deserved a miraculous recovery, it was Heero. She had hoped that if she brought him the violin and ran his limp fingers over it, then maybe... maybe it would make a difference. Like in a fairy-tale, his eyes would open once his fingertips touched the ancient wood... But, of course they didn't. She curled his fingers around the violin, letting him hold it, and watching his face intently, searching for any sign of awareness under the intubation running into his open mouth. Not even the slightest reaction twitched across his face.

Discouraged, Relena pulled away from the bed with a weary sigh. She placed the violin back in the case, closing it quietly. She put it away, placing it carefully under the table, and turned to the hospital nightstand by the bed, a tall stainless-steel locker with a cabinet and two drawers. A vase stood on top of it, holding a bouquet of wilting flowers. She retrieved the keys from her jeans' pocket and unlocked the first drawer, where her laptop rested inside. She only worked while visiting his room, so she had never bothered taking it back to Montauk. Setting the small notebook computer on the table under the window, she took a seat and gazed numbly at the beautiful foliage while it booted up.

"Good morning," a young nurse greeted with a cheery voice; the same nurse who had stopped earlier to smile at her through the window, a nice-looking brunette around her age, wearing green scrubs and a high ponytail; Nurse Shane. She entered the room pushing a cart full of medical supplies. "You're here bright and early today."

Relena turned to greet her with a half-hearted smile. "Traffic was quite courteous this morning."

"Ah, yes," Shane agreed while setting up shop by Heero's bed. She prepped her equipment on the cart, ready to run her hourly observations and take daily labs. "Just wait 'till Columbus Day," she laughed, turning to draw a sample of Heero's blood, "You'd want to avoid hitting the road on Monday."

Relena nodded gravely and turned to her laptop, refusing to look at the checkup. The notorious Hamptons traffic had put Heero in that bed in the first place, bringing his heart to a complete standstill. She would stand through a million of those endless traffic jams if there were any chance she would arrive to see him awake and well.

If only he hadn't left his meds behind! If only she had realized he was trying to impress her, trying to relive former-days of glory by discarding evidence of his present-day frailty.

Relena slumped her shoulders and shifted her eyes to the keyboard, staring at it until her vision blurred.

If only she hadn't told him she was feeling bored...

"No books today?" Nurse Shane asked casually while securing the blood-filled test tubes on her cart.

"No," Relena looked up from her computer, "I can't concentrate, so what's the point?"

She struggled to keep up with her thesis research, but it was no use. Her work was falling behind. She had also suspended her intern position at the UN, as she couldn't deal with the disturbing reports submitted regularly to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights when she had her own horrors to deal with. It wasn't like the OHCHR was making any sort of difference. Like Heero had written bitterly in his notepad – nothing had changed. She could go back to her pointless duties once he was better.

Shane nodded in understanding, performing her routine safety checks on the Ecmo. "You think writing a thesis about political stuff sucks?" she chuckled, checking the pump access line for chattering, "Try med-school on for size..."

Relena smiled back faintly, tracking Shane's progress. She knew the routine by heart now: make sure the Ecmo was plugged into the blue power point; that the hand crank was nearby; make sure that the oxygen flow to the oxygenators was secure; check the flow settings... and so on and so forth. A list that was never quite finished being ticked off. The Ecmo team monitored Heero closely at all times, and Nurse Shane drew frequent labs to see how he was doing. Relena had become somewhat of an expert reading the Ecmo stats. She looked at the monitors every single day, hoping to see some kind of improvement, but so far there hadn't been any significant developments.

Shane pulled Heero's chart from the headboard to list his vitals, her gaze shifting back and forth from the Ecmo stat-screen and the clipboard.

"Hmm, he's been struggling with his lungs this morning," she noted, wrinkling her face in disappointment. "Fluid buildup in the left lung."

"The ARDS?" Relena asked worriedly, joining her by the bed and peeking over her shoulder to have a closer look at the Ecmo display.

"Yeah," Shane sighed, jotting something down, "We might have to drain again. I'll tell Doctor Grabelsky."

"Again...?" Relena moaned, biting down on her lower lip. They must have already emptied a few gallons' worth of fluid from his lungs during these past few weeks.

As doctors had explained to her, Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, ARDS, generally occurred in the setting of critical illness, or post-trauma resuscitation. Often fatal, ARDS was essentially a harbinger of death, one with whom Heero had been struggling for weeks now.

Shane lifted the blanket, checking the tubing going in and out of Heero's thighs – one cannula for extraction, and another for infusion. Relena grimaced and looked away from the sickly iodine-smeared skin and the thick crimson tubes burrowing into his flesh. She went back to her computer, taking a seat by the table.

"Did you tell him about the violin?" Shane asked casually while cleaning the open incisions and applying more iodine.

"Sort of... yes." Relena heaved a sigh. "It's not like he can hear me."

"You don't know that," she cast a sympathetic glance over her shoulder.

"It's been more than thirty days," Relena let out, and Nurse Shane bit her lip and said nothing. They both knew how that statement ended. The Ecmo kept Heero alive, but the longer his body depended on it to sustain life, the less chances he had to recover. The typical course of treatment was around seven to fourteen days. Long-term Ecmo support increased the chances of complications. Dr. Grabelsky had already prepared her for the worst, explaining that if Heero stayed on the Ecmo for longer than thirty days, his chances of recovery became slim, and chances of neurological damage became high.

They were on Day 32.

Relena roused her laptop out of sleep mode.

"You're in luck," she heard Shane speak to Heero, "Hakeem won't be in today, so we'll go easy on you for a change..."

Relena looked up and the young nurse winked at her playfully. Heero, of course, showed no response. She turned back to her computer, checking her emails.

Long-term patients on Ecmo support were at high risk of developing infections and pressure ulcers, so they had to be log-rolled regularly throughout the day to prevent bedsores. This was done by a designated staff member, to ensure no tension was transmitted to the cannulas, obstructing the Ecmo flow at the femoral artery access. Hakeem – a burly orderly – was usually the one to perform the procedure, and Relena always felt that he was handling Heero too roughly. She had already complained to the Chief of Cardiology, twice. If she wouldn't look out for his best interest, who would?

"We have a new guy today," Shane told Heero as she tucked him tightly under the blanket, "so make sure you behave yourself."

Relena scoffed. It was what he would have done if he were awake.

The young nurse turned to her with a pleasant smile. "New Guy and I will be back later to take him to X-Ray."

Relena nodded. The only time Heero was moved out of the room was for his daily chest X-rays (making sure the tubes were sitting properly in his chest). He could only be moved under the watchful eyes of a clinical perfusionist, to ensure no change in circuit flow resulted as a consequence of movement. It was a slow, painstaking process, which usually gave Relena about an hour or more to get some fresh air and grab a coffee. Her daily routine had long synchronized with Heero's medical schedule.

"Thank you," she said with a heavy smile.

"Sure thing." Shane unlocked the medical cart's wheels with her foot, preparing to leave. "Did you check out that website I told you about?" she asked, wriggling the heavy cart a little to get it moving.

"Uh, yes. Thank you," Relena responded gratefully, entering her web browser; "It was a lot of help."

"Glad to hear it." Shane grunted as she pushed the cart towards the door. She stopped by the table, peering curiously at Relena's laptop. "It's a great tool for researching that sort of stuff," she added, gesturing at the computer with her chin.

Relena nodded, clicking on a link to enter the site to which Shane was referring. It was an online archive called _"RØOTS"_. She liked its logo. The word was designed so that the first "Ø" was a colony structure and the second "O" was the Earth sprouting roots that connected the two O's, merging with the colony. The archive was designed to help Colonists retrace their ancestral roots on Earth.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "I spent the whole week reading what I found," she confessed, looking over her shoulder at Shane, smiling weakly. "It was fascinating."

"You should make him a book," Shane suggested and rolled the rattling cart towards the door. "You know, one of those genealogy books. I know a place that prints those. They help you make a family tree and everything. I got one, going back _five hundred years_!"

"That's not a bad idea," Relena let out, mulling it over. Of course, she would have to insert a bibliographic list of sources, because Heero will no doubt check to verify the authenticity of the information she had gathered.

She had decided to make it her mission to uncover Heero's past, dedicating her long hospital visits for research, no longer for her thesis, but for him. She sat days and nights by his bedside, listening to the Ecmo whirring, hissing and pumping while the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background. When she could no longer bear the noise, she played music on her phone; usually violin music, hoping he could hear it and maybe it would ease his sleep, like it had done for him as a child.

Relena had spent days on her laptop, researching Heero's life, his genealogy, tracing his lineages inasmuch as she could. She began with simple online search engines, scouring various databases. She had found a memorial website listing all the victims of the AC 186 terrorist attack on Bulge. His name was listed among the deceased: Seis Clark (41), Aoi Clark (32), and Seiki Clark (6). An old news archive article listed Seis Clark as one of Bulge's chief engineers, who had attended the opening ceremony along with his family. They all died in the attack. That was the last time Heero had existed officially.

On record, he'd been dead for twenty years.

She had curled next to him on the bed that day, mindful of the Ecmo tubes, aching to feel his warm living body against her, as she listened to his artificially induced heartbeat, and cried herself to sleep.

Over time, she became obsessed about the project, deepening her search by using her contacts at the UN and her professors at NYU to get her hands on the less accessible information, assembling the scattered puzzle pieces that were Heero's past. She even managed to get her hands on a copy of his birth certificate.[1]

As Heero had told her already, his mother's name was Aoi Clark, but his father was listed as _"unknown."_ Relena couldn't find any evidence of Seis Clark ever adopting him officially, even though he had been married to Heero's mother before she had given birth to her illegitimate son.

Heero was born in an L1-X57HF hospital on February 16 AC 180, registered as Seiki (青稀) Clark. A quick investigation into the meaning behind the Japanese Kanji revealed that the first symbol meant _"blue"_ , while the other meant _"rare"_. Together, the two became a homonym of _"spirit"_. The name Seiki meant _"true spirit"_ , and also _"rare blue"_ [2]. His mother had nested her name in his, along with a reference to the rare eye color she had passed down to her son. Her love was embodied in his name, never to be forgotten. Relena felt terrible that he had chosen to discard it.

Nevertheless, she was delighted to learn that Heero was only two months older than she was. She decided to celebrate his birthday properly next year – because he _w_ _ould_ live to see his 27th birthday! They could celebrate their one-year anniversary together next Valentine's, and she'd throw in a surprise birthday party. She even toyed with the idea of giving him an invitation and then tearing it in his face...

"So, did you find anything interesting?" Nurse Shane asked, leaning in to take a closer look at the screen. She laughed at what she saw. "Oh my god, is that him?!"

They were looking at an old online news article, dating back to February AC 180. A local L1 newspaper reported a hospital break-in and a failed attempt to kidnap a newborn. Apparently, the mother had stopped the perpetrator before he could leave the hospital. He had escaped without the baby and the police had asked the public's help to identify and catch the culprit. Relena realized Shane was commenting about the photo at the center of the article – an image of the suspect, caught by the hospital's security cameras.

 

Relena had recognized him instantly. Even though the image was dark and fuzzy, there was no mistake. The man walking through the hospital hallways cradling a small baby was the same man in the passport Quatre had found on L3-X18999; the man Heero suspected was his real father, but never dared to ask. The answer had been buried inside an old news archive all along.

"Yes," she said, smiling at the fuzzy image on the screen. "That's him. Less than a week old. That's probably his father," she pointed at the man's stern face. "We don't know for sure."

"Why else would he sneak into a hospital in the middle of the night?" Shane pointed out, smiling knowingly. "God, that's... now _that's_ something!" she marveled, shaking her head at the picture on the screen. "Makes you wonder what kind of stuff is out there..." She chuckled uneasily. "All these bits and pieces of our lives floating around the web, and we don't even know."

Relena turned to look pensively at Heero, lying deathly still on the bed. Did he know? If he had known, then he would have said something when telling her about Odin. She found it hard to believe that he would miss something accessible online. Why didn't he look?

She wanted so much to ask him about it. She wanted so much to share this revelation with him. She wanted him to open his eyes so she could show him the picture of his father holding him in his arms. She wanted him to live; she wanted him to have a future, because he _did_ have a past, and it was not all gone.

"Well, I'm off to complete my rounds," Shane chirped, walking back to her handcart. "Places to go, patients to see..." she muttered, pushing the heavy cart out the door.

Relena smiled warmly; she appreciated Shane's efforts to keep her spirits high. It was getting harder and harder to do so with each passing day.

The young nurse smiled back and left the room. Relena turned back to her computer. She put on the violin music, and continued her research, the hours passing by unnoticed.

 _"RØOTS"_ was extremely helpful. So far, she had retraced his mother's side. It had been fairly simple. Aoi Clark, formerly Aoi Nakasone, was born in space in AC 154, to space-dwelling parents. Her grandparents, however, were originally from Japan, and had immigrated to space in AC 113. There were a few mixed marriages along the line: two Soviet husbands, one Portuguese, and an American wife – each separated by a couple of decades at least. The blue-eyed gene must have originated from one of these unions, if not all. Aoi had been an only child, and hence the end of the Nakasone bloodline in space. A few distant relatives still lived on Earth.

As for his father's side... Relena stretched her arms out and set herself to the task. She tried her luck with _Lowensky_ as an educated guess first, assuming there was a connection between the alias _Lowe_ and the name engraved on the violin. _"RØOTS"_ came up with only one result – a Russian family of four immigrating to space in AC 145, settling in the L1 Cluster. Their third child was born in AC 152, registered as Adin Lowensky, who would later become – or so she suspected – Odin Lowe.

"Hmm, his name means _delicate_ ," she informed Heero after looking it up. He had told her the meaning behind his mother's name, so she wanted to do the same for him. "It's of Hebrew origin." She turned to him, smiling. "Now isn't that something?"

She switched the browser tabs back to _"RØOTS"_ and opened a new search _._

"Speaking of Hebrew, you should tell me more about that agent in Tel Aviv," she added matter-of-factly, answered only by the Ecmo's whirring and hissing. "I found that cactus thing, so now I need to know more." She shrugged. "It seems to me like it was more serious than you let on..."

No answer, aside from a soft, steady beeping.

She spent the next three hours tracing the Lowensky lineage, going back as far as the First World War. She even found mentions of the violin in the historical memoirs of a Russian soldier on the Eastern Front back in 1916 AD.

The last mention of an _Odin Lowe_ she turned up was in an old L3-X18999 populace report (the Colonies kept strict records of their inhabitants at any given time; it was crucial for sustaining life in Space). Relena used her UN credentials to access it. It listed Lowe and his son entering X18999 in late AC 188, while the colony was still under construction. Lowe had registered at the spaceport as a violinist travelling with his son. His stated reason for staying was to aid in colony-construction.

There was no record of the two ever leaving the colony, but she did find an old news article about an attack on X18999's Alliance base that same month. So it seemed Heero had been involved in something this terrible at the tender age of eight. It pained her to think what else he might have been forced to do in the two years he had spent in his father's care. _What kind of person trains his own child to become a hitman?_ she thought. No wonder Aoi chose to take her son away.

Relena leaned back in the chair, considering. The CLO had infiltrated L3-X18999 when it had still been under construction. It was where Heero had apparently been recruited by Dr. J. The colony was later used by the Barton Foundation to stage the AC 196 Uprising and it was sixteen-year-old Heero who had stopped the colony from being used as a weapon of mass destruction. It was where his role as a rebel had begun, and ended. After the AC 196 conflicts, the Winner Corporation had taken it upon itself to reconstruct and rehabilitate the colony. That must have been how the violin had ended up in Quatre's hands.

A full circle.

She wondered if she should write to Quatre about Heero's condition, for he was the only one she was likely able to contact. Then again, she didn't know if Heero had kept in touch with any of the other pilots. Maybe he wouldn't want them to know.

The door behind her opened and someone stepped into the room. Although her back faced the doorway, Relena caught the reflection on her laptop screen. Her mother approached, carrying a lavish bouquet of flowers.

Relena pivoted in her chair, frowning. "Mother, what are you doing here?"

Heero didn't usually get any visitors except Relena, although Charles Baker – his ASAC at Preventer NYC – had stopped by once about three weeks ago as a show of corporate solidarity. Preventer was taking care of Heero's medical bills, and the agency still covered his rent even though his apartment now stood empty. HR had sent the flowers about a week ago, but other than that, she hadn't heard from them.

"Visiting," her mother said as she walked over to the nightstand by Heero's bed. She took the old flowers to the sink, pulling them carefully out of the vase, as to not to drip water on her lovely turquoise dress. She filled the vase with clean water and arranged the fresh bouquet inside.

"Mother, he doesn't need more flowers," Relena sighed.

"It'll improve the place," her mother said and placed the flowers on the nightstand. "It's too drab in here," she commented, fluffing them tenderly.

"We're in the ICU. It's supposed to be _drab_."

"Nonsense," her mother dismissed. "Flowers are always welcome."

Relena snorted quietly and turned back to her computer. Her mother waited while she worked. Relena glimpsed up at her every now and then, noting her mother's obvious reluctance to look at Heero. The sight of him was indeed disturbing, but she suspected that her mother's unease stemmed from what she now knew about him, and not from the way he looked connected to all the tubing. She had told her mother everything, from start to finish. To her credit, her mother had taken it relatively well, all things considered. She had even thanked her for finally sharing the full story behind the active part she had taken in the war.

"I thought I'd take you out to lunch," her mother finally said, standing before Heero's bed with her hands clasped in front of her. "You've lost too much weight."

"I'm fine, mother," Relena muttered, absorbed in her work. "I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind. I'll just grab something from the cafeteria."

"Relena, hij gaat nergens heen," _(he isn't going anywhere)_ her mother scolded sternly. "You can take a lunch break every once in a while. We'll go to that seaside cafe. Get a change of scenery."

"Fine, mother," she sighed, clicking away at her laptop. "We'll go to lunch. Let me just finish this first."

Her mother nodded, pleased. She walked around the small room for a minute or two, before stopping next to her chair to peer at the laptop, peeking over her shoulder.

"Working on your thesis?" she asked.

"No," Relena sighed over her laptop. "It's the genealogy."

"Hmm," her mother let out thoughtfully, and looked over to Heero's bed for a quiet moment.

"There's this exhibition of Holocaust memoirs in the Jewish museum on L1," she suddenly said, and Relena stopped typing, looking up from her keyboard.

"There's a mention of a violin in a small Ghetto uprising in Russian territory conquered by the Nazis, back in 1942 AD," she continued, "There's also a mention of the name Lowensky."

"How..." Relena frowned. "You snooped?"

Her mother smiled cleverly. "I told you, schatje, I know this man, from L1. A nice Russian fellow. He's the curator. He has an interest in Colonial History, so I thought I'd ask for you." She smiled uneasily, turning to look over her shoulder, at the bed. "A rebel through and through, wouldn't you say? Runs in the family, I suppose..."

Relena wasn't sure what to say, so she turned back to her laptop. Honestly, she never expected her mother to take such a keen interest in her pointless project.

Her mother noticed the violin case next to her feet. She retrieved it carefully and placed it on top of the small table and took a look inside.

"It came out nicely," she remarked as she examined the restored violin, pleased for a change. Not surprising, since she had been the one who recommended the expert craftsman. "It is a lovely instrument," she added while looking it over, holding it carefully in her pristine white hands. "You should learn how to play," she suggested and placed the violin gently back in the case. She turned to Relena with a wistful smile. "I have always wanted to see you play an instrument."

"No way," Relena grumbled, turning back to her laptop's screen. "Remember my piano lessons? Dad walked around with ear plugs whenever he was home!"

Her mother laughed softly. "Yes, I remember. But he never told you to quit, now did he?"

Relena forced on a sad smile and finally looked up at her mother. "No. Never." She turned her head aside to look at Heero, lying on the bed. And she wouldn't quit now either.

Her mother came to stand next to her chair and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She also looked at Heero, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I shudder to think about what you two must have gone through together..."

"He has never let me down," Relena said firmly. "Not when it really mattered." She heaved a miserable sigh, casting her eyes down to the keyboard; "And still I let all the silly little things get to me," she admitted. "I wanted the rom-com version... the fairytale they sell you in the media. I gave him such a hard time for stupid stuff, like not celebrating my birthday the way I had imagined he should do it. It was stupid. Childish. I... I want so much to tell him how sorry I am..."

"You're here now, suffering, and that counts for something," her mother reassured, stroking her hair lovingly. "I'm sure he knows how much you love him. It's clear to me, so it must be obvious to Heero." She placed her hand on Relena's shoulder, smiling down at her.

Relena turned her head up to look at her mother. She placed her own hand over her mother's, smiling a little as she tapped on it softly.

"Dank je, moeder."

*          *          *

After forty days, despair gradually changed into cautious optimism. Heero's lung functions began to show some improvement, fluids slowly clearing and revealing clean lung tissue. The Ecmo team started talking about a "trial off", decreasing Ecmo support for a while to see if Heero could manage without it. They walked her through what they were looking for each day, and Relena watched the Ecmo screens closely. She had never felt so anxious and hopeful in her life, not even during those fateful last hours of the war, when Heero had plunged into orbit to save the Earth from Libra.

After fifty-six days, the doctors determined that Heero's lungs were capable of sustaining breath independently. His heart functions also improved and Grabelsky finally decided to surgically remove the cannulas and stitch the blood vessels closed. They removed most of the intubation, and Heero looked more like himself again. Shane ran hourly tests to see how he was holding up.

They were getting ready to pull him out of the medically induced coma.

Relena spent her days watching his vitals on the monitors and working on the genealogy book, striving to finish it before he awoke. At nights, she crawled into bed with a glass of his whiskey, sipping slowly while re-reading Heero's confessional notes. Eventually, she fell into a drunken slumber, clutching the ragged little notepad to her chest.

The genealogy project was all she could think about when awake. Working on her computer by Heero's bed, she shared her work with him as the book took form. Grabelsky had also said it was vital to keep Heero's mind engaged with reality – music, touch, conversation... anything to stimulate the brain and help him rouse from the coma. Relena updated him about her progress, speaking excitedly about every new lead and surprising find.

"Did you know your great-cousin, twice removed, was a professional figure skater?" she told him once, delighted. "The first woman to represent Earth in the Space Olympics!" She leaned into her screen, studying the young woman's photo carefully. "She was beautiful." She turned the laptop to the bed, as if to show him the picture of a young Japanese woman in a colorful sequined costume skating gracefully, her face intense and her eyes a burning blue. "She looks just like you. So _serious_!" She teased, smiling and almost carefree. Soon, she'd be able to hear his response to all the wonderful things she had discovered.

Taking a break from her research, Relena stepped outside to grab a coffee from the vending machine in the waiting area outside the ICU. She stood by a large panoramic window overlooking the parking lot and sipped the bitter beverage while gazing out at the rain. It was pouring; a chilly November day in the Hamptons.

The clock on the waiting room wall showed 11:00 AM. They were on Day 68, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Armistice Day; observed on the day when the armistice ending World War I began in 1918 AD.

She didn't remember commemorating it in her homeland (the one she remembered, at least). Later, as peace and the ceremony of memorial needed around it had become more relevant to her, she'd learned that the Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway – parts of which had later become the Sanq Kingdom – had remained neutral during the first global conflict. Hence, she had grown up in a region that honored its soldiers, both living and dead, on Remembrance Day. Even here, in the US, the date was commemorated as Veterans Day, celebrating the service of all US military veterans; unlike the American Memorial Day, which honored those who had perished in service. _A day to honor the brave and the living_ , she reflected. It would be a most wonderful day for Heero to finally wake up from his long sleep.

"Miss Darlian," a familiar male voice called from behind, "Relena."

She recognized the voice as Dr. Grabelsky, Heero's ICU physician, and turned around to face the waiting room. The doctor, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and thick eyeglasses, joined her by the large window.

"I'm glad I found you," he said, his breathless voice barely audible over the rain pounding hard against the wall-to-wall window. She smiled for some reason, having a good feeling about this.

"I never stray far from his room," she reminded the man with a pleasant smile. "What is it, doctor?"

Dr. Grabelsky smiled back uneasily. "Why don't we, uh, have a seat?" he gestured at an empty row of waiting chairs by the window.

Relena frowned, the good feeling gone. "Is everything all right?" she asked, clasping her coffee cup between interlaced hands, trying her best not to crush it as they settled into their seats.

Grabelsky smoothed down the wrinkled lab coat over his thighs, stalling.

"Alan, what is it?" Relena tried again, fingers fumbling over the rim of her paper cup. "Is something wrong with Heero?"

"I'm afraid so," the man sighed and finally raised his head to face her, his dark eyes pained. They had been through so many rough patches together these past two month, and she knew he hated being the bearer of bad news.

"But... you said he was getting better."

The doctor nodded. "He was. I mean, he is. But not as well as expected," he explained, his voice solemn. Relena looked at him tensely, unable to utter a word, so he continued.

"Heero's been off the Ecmo for two weeks now," he said, speaking slowly, "his vitals are steady, but we don't see a significant improvement. His blood work had me worried, so I ran some tests."

"What kind of tests?"

The doctor hesitated, turning to look at the rain for a moment, before facing her again. "Heero has MDS," he paused, letting the words sink in. "Myelodysplastic syndrome. It's a bone marrow disorder."

"W-what?" she sputtered, stunned; "You mean like..." – her heart pounded, painful in her chest – "like leukemia?"

"No," Dr. Grabelsky said, shaking his head. "But there's a very big chance it might develop into a cancer of the blood cells." He took off his glasses, sighing. She watched him clean the lenses with his lab coat. "Typically, there are no specific symptoms to the condition, so MDS is hard to diagnose. It's often confused for something else. Symptoms usually include chronic fatigue, shortness of breath, paleness, and a tendency to feel cold, all of which occur due to a low red blood cell count – acute anemia."

Outside, the rain was thinning. Relena gazed out the window in a daze. Heero had displayed all of the above; always tired, always cold. Pale and sickly. She had thought it was his arrhythmia, or that maybe he was working himself too hard, but...

"MDS is often a diagnosis of exclusion," Grabelsky continued quietly; "Heero's blood count kept showing worrisome irregularities, so we ran a check. We found some very immature blood cells in his blood and bone marrow. A biopsy confirmed our suspicions."

"I... I see..." She mumbled, gawking numbly out the window. This couldn't be happening. Not when he was so close to getting out of the woods...

"What... what could have caused this?" she turned to the doctor with a troubled face. "How long has he been sick?"

"MDS most often develops without an identifiable cause," Grabelsky informed her, putting his glasses back on; "Known risk factors include exposure to agents that cause DNA damage, like radiation or heavy metals. The onset of symptoms usually occurs six to seven years after exposure. We do know that males are more commonly affected than females, and very few people under fifty are diagnosed with MDS. Unfortunately, we've seen a lot of MDS cases in young men since the war ended, mainly in MS pilots. I understand Heero has a military background, is that right?"

She nodded, closing her eyes sadly. "Yes... He was a pilot."

Grabelsky nodded, his face grave. "Recent research suggests that prolonged exposure to an MS Ultracompact Fusion Reactor has a deleterious effect on the body," he explained. "MDS has sadly become known as MS Syndrome."

She recalled hearing the name in the media before, especially around Veterans Day.

"Yes," Relena murmured, staring down at her coffee. It had gone cold. "I've heard about it. It's been all over the news lately..."

"That's right," Grabelsky confirmed. "It's still a matter of controversy," he said. "We first started seeing these cases about three years ago. There's some difficulty reaching statistical significance when it comes to the correlation between an MS engine and MDS. The medical community says one thing, and the politicians say another. Fact remains, many former MS pilots have been diagnosed with MDS these past few years."

Relena nodded, unable to come up with a verbal response.

The debate had made waves in the media about two years ago, before she had met Heero in New York. Eve War veterans of every faction were suffering, and no one was willing to take responsibility, because the organizations they had fought for no longer existed. Who on Earth would want to fund long-term medical care for former OZ Space Forces veterans? What Colony would officially support a former CLO pilot, let alone a Gundam pilot who had broken off from the CLO at the very beginning of Operation Meteor? Who would ever take responsibility for the long-term damage caused by prolonged exposure to a Gundam's superior UFR? Who would pay for forcing a mere child to sit encased within several tons of Gundanium alloy?

No one was left to answer to these crimes.

Although aware of the political debate, she had dismissed the possibility of it ever hitting close to home. The one time she had mentioned the dispute, Heero had grumbled something about how it was _'an Ozzies' problem'_ , and not his.

MS Syndrome was simply something awful that happened to other people. She already had enough on her plate to be concerned about when it came to Heero's health, so it was easy writing off his symptoms as part of his heart condition. She should have taken a keener interest, but he had never allowed any medical discussions, shutting down the conversation if it became too intrusive. Heero had seldom shared anything about his well-being. She didn't even know he was on anticoagulants until the blood clot happened, assuming his meds were solely for his heart arrhythmia.

She should have done more than just trust him blindly. She should have done more than live under the illusion that he could simply pull through anything.

Relena struggled to keep breathing over the terrible crushing feeling in her chest.

"Relena," Dr. Grabelsky placed a hand on her shoulder. "I realize that this is a lot to take in."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I... I just need to know..." She glanced up, meeting his eyes, and then looked down again. She tightened her hold around her coffee.

"Is it... Is it fatal?"

Grabelsky pulled his hand away from her shoulder, turning his eyes to the window.

"Like I said, myelodysplastic syndrome is not like cancer. It's a disease of the bone marrow, and therefore we have a combined scoring system to determine the outlook and decide on treatment," he paused, giving her a moment to absorb the information, and turned to face her again, his features a picture of compassion.

"Unfortunately, Heero's score places him in the high-risk group. The typical survival rate following diagnosis is approximately two years, but I'm afraid Heero doesn't have that long."

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. She looked up, struggling to maintain a poker face.

"The bone marrow damage was already too great. The blood thinners he's been getting on the Ecmo, and the damage caused by the ARDS, has worsened his condition considerably. Relena," he reached for her hand, resting in her lap, and looked her somberly in the eye. "It doesn't look good."

She stared at his callous hand covering hers, going numb. Her voice trembled. "But... but there's a treatment, right? I mean, there... there has to be." She dug her fingers in. "Chemo?"

Grabelsky shook his head. "The mainstay of therapy is supportive care," he said, slowly pulling his hand away. "We try to control symptoms, improve overall survival, and decrease progression to leukemia. We've already begun blood transfusions and drug therapy, but that will only postpone the inevitable."

"You mean there's nothing you can do for him?" she moaned, on the verge of tears.

"A stem cell transplant is usually the only way to potentially cure MDS, and it is often the treatment of choice for younger patients, if a matched donor is available. In Heero's case, an allogeneic stem cell transplant may be the only way to save his life, but it's rare to find a suitable donor, let alone in such short notice. Usually, siblings are most suitable, but as I understand, Heero has no immediate family, is that right?"

She bowed her head down slowly, her mind hazed, shocked. "No. No family."

"In that case, we'll try to look for an unrelated donor in our databanks. It might take some time, and I can't guarantee a positive outcome." He paused, assessing her for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Relena," he offered sincerely. "I know how much you were looking forward to his recovery."

"Yeah..." she murmured, turning stiffly to face the window. The rain had ceased, the sky gradually clearing.

It was going to be another beautiful autumn day.

*          *          *

 

[1] According to the [Frozen Teardrop epilogue](https://athenise.tumblr.com/post/136680120522/heres-an-original-epilogue-of-frozen-teardrop)[,](https://athenise.tumblr.com/post/136680120522/heres-an-original-epilogue-of-frozen-teardrop) Heero had at some point obtained a copy of his birth certificate. Oddly enough, FT doesn't mention his birth name...

[2] I've always headcanoned Heero's real name is Seiki ("true spirit"), but I give full credit to my beta, Lemon/Odamaki, for coming up with a whole new meaning to the name, using Kanji. Kudos! ^_^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read more? You can either wait for next week's chapter, or leave me a review and I'll send you the entire story - a 70K long eBook! How about it? ^_~


	6. Chapter 6

"Mother, no."

"Relena, please let me do this for you."

Relena shook her head, resolve already weakening. "I don't know, mother..." she murmured, gazing anxiously at Heero's still form on the bed. "This doesn't feel appropriate."

"Relena, I may not be the politician your father was, but I know people, and I know fundraising. This is what I do best. Please, honey, let me help you help him." She reached to take Relena's hands, looking earnestly into her eyes. "I have spent the last forty years navigating the treacherous waters of European high society. I think I can handle one Russian family from L1," she concluded with a cunning smile.

Relena smiled back faintly, appreciative of her mother's timely humor. If there was one thing Marlene Darlian knew how to do, it was schmoozing people into giving her what she wanted. She was always the _"people-person"_ while her father had been the more introverted type. He usually let her mother do all the talking in parties, unless politics were involved. They had made quite a pair, complimenting each other perfectly.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Relena bowed her head down to stare at the floor between their feet, thinking. After Dr. Grabelsky had informed her about the MDS, she had moved from researching Heero's past, to searching for his future. It all began in the present, with locating his living relatives. She didn't bother with his mother's side, since Aoi had been an only child, and distant relatives were less likely to be a match. She knew that his father had been born on L1, and that his family had emigrated there with two children four years prior, so she began her search there. She had found an uncle and an aunt, five first-cousins, and three first-cousins-once-removed. They all lived in the L1 Cluster. Her mother had offered to go on a _"diplomatic mission"_ to L1, to ask them to get tested for a possible donation for Heero.

"Let me handle this for you," her mother pleaded with her, "You should be here with him. I'll go to L1."

Relena looked up again, troubled. "Mother, you have never left Earth in your _life_. I don't think it's a good idea––"

"Relena, don't make me into a frail old woman," her mother scolded firmly, "Daar ben ik nog niet." _(I am not there yet)_

So she let her mother fly alone to L1 to try to convince Heero's family to accept him – a notorious Gundam pilot – and be tested for a donation. Her mother, who had been against the war and resented the Colonies, swearing never to set foot in outer space, was now off-planet, fighting for the life of a Gundam pilot. If only her father were alive to see this day...

Relena remained by Heero's side, waiting anxiously for an update. Sick of counting the hours, she sat by his bed, reading to him from her favorite book.

" _Every moment her light was growing fainter, and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it._ "

Relena paused, looking up from the pages, to glance at his ashen face. She could still feel the ghost of his touch as he had traced his finger lightly over her tearful eyelashes all those years ago. Such a gentle gesture, from such a callous boy. _'I'll kill you'_ , he had promised, walking away. He had never made good on his promise, until now. Seeing him like this... it was killing her inside.

" _Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said_ ," Relena turned back to the book. " _Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies_."

She laughed quietly, feeling silly for reading him this childish tale. Looking up, she studied his limp form under the blanket, her eyes travelling up the bag of blood dripping life into his veins. She sighed and turned back to the book.

" _She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure. 'If you believe,' Peter shouted to them, 'clap your hands; don't let Tink die!'_ "

Relena paused, placing the book in her lap. Lifting her eyes to the bed, she observed the way his long white fingers lay inert over the blanket, curled slightly, but unmoving. Such dainty hands, such long slender digits; better suited for playing the piano, than wielding weapons.

Raising her hands in front of her, she clapped three times.

Nothing.

She chuckled, turning back to the book. He would have snorted at her useless attempt.

"It was worth a shot," she mumbled, and continued reading.

" _Many clapped. Some didn't. The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on Earth was happening; but already Tink was saved..._ "[1]

She wanted the same happy ending to their story. There was so much more she wanted to share with him. So much more she wanted to know. She wanted to get to know him, all of him. She didn't want him to go before they shared more than just a beginning. She wanted a middle, a big long middle, before the end.

*          *          *

It had been five days already. They were on the night of Day 75.

Relena paced the ICU waiting room, clutching her phone in her hand. Her mother had texted her when she had arrived at L1 three days ago, but Relena hadn't heard from her since and she's been climbing the walls waiting for another update.

Finally, she took a seat on her regular row of chairs by the window, placing her phone next to her, just in case it suddenly rang, and reached into the leather jacket she wore, retrieving another phone. It was Heero's.

Relena bit down on her lower lip, gawking at the dark screen. The harsh fluorescent lights above reflected on the sleek device. She stared at the bright flares until her vision blurred.

Earlier in the evening, she had used Heero's finger to unlock his phone, pressing his limp digit against the fingerprint sensor. She didn't know what she was expecting to find, but she was hungry for scraps; anything about him that might keep her going. She had added her own fingerprint to the security lock settings; he would have her head for this if he knew.

Looking up, she glanced carefully left and right, and then snorted at her own silliness. As if anyone would know she was looking into somebody else's phone. She unlocked it.

Not surprisingly, there wasn't much to find; secrecy was Heero's way of life. He didn't even have any contacts listed – not even hers. He probably knew all of them by heart, recognizing the caller's number without having it IDed by the device. She expected nothing less.

There wasn't much to find in his email account either. The inbox was empty, and his email folders only seemed to hold bureaucratic documents such as bills, bank statements, pension reports, and other administrative garbage. Nothing of the personal sort – and she must have scrolled through a dozen or so folders. She entered each one, hoping the folder's bland name was just a ruse to hide something more personal. And, indeed, when she reached the letter _"T"_ , entering a folder labeled as _"Telecom"_ , she finally found what she was looking for; it was where he had stored her emails, the ones she had sent him every now and then.

The _"Telecom"_ folder was where he kept what he must have considered emails of a personal nature, not that she had ever sent him anything personal via email. Most of their communiques were for school. She would send him sections of her thesis and he would proofread them before she forwarded it to her advisor. Heero might not be the most eloquent person, but his grasp of grammar and editing skills were topnotch. He used to have the time for it while on medical leave, but once he had returned to work, she didn't burden him with it any further. It saddened her to see that their last email correspondence dated back six months.

Smiling wistfully, she scrolled down the list of emails.

 _'Do not use a semicolon when unnecessary'_ , he had berated her in one email, and then listed guidelines for proper use. She had responded with a ;-P emoji, to which he had responded with an atypical :-)

 _'Do not use "less" when you actually mean "fewer"; i.e. when you're referring to something you can count individually',_ he had rebuked in another email, adding: _(also, you keep confusing e.g. for i.e.)'._ She had replied with an offended _'you're such a grammar Nazi!'_ , to which Heero had responded with an angry emoji. That had gotten a laugh out of her; his angry glare in itself should be patented as an emoji, she thought.

Finally, she reached a correspondence between Quatre and Heero, dating back to November AC 201, when Quatre had sent Heero the violin. The first email was from Heero to Quatre and it simply said _'Thank you'_.

 _'You are most welcome,'_ Quatre had written back. _'I am honored to have been the one to return it to its rightful owner. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope this helps a little.'_

Heero had replied a few days later with _'It's more than I could ever hope to gain.'_ She smiled sadly at his sincere words. Heero was used to losing; it was gaining something that really got to him. A self-proclaimed perpetual loser, he was far more appreciative than most. Only he could rise above such an enormous loss as an amputated limb, and feel grateful for something small he had gained.

Relena looked further through the folder, but she couldn't find any more emails of a personal nature. If he had kept in touch with the other ex-pilots, then he hadn't done it by email or any other communications apps on his phone. His call log was of no help either, because it only contained numbers. She recognized her own number in there, appearing once or twice. She could count the times he had called her on one hand, and still be left with a finger or two. They usually texted each other. Heero wasn't much for talking on the phone.

Switching back to his email app, she scrolled back to his last correspondence with Quatre. She hesitated, biting down on her lips again, and finally pressed _'Reply'_.

The cursor blinked over the blank screen, waiting for her input. Her finger hovered over the virtual keyboard, moving back and forth between _'Cancel'_ and _'Edit'_.

She chose _'Edit'_.

 _'Hello Quatre',_ she wrote, _'this is Relena. I'm writing to you because—'_

Because what? She wondered, pausing.

She hit _'Cancel'_.

She had no idea.

Sighing, Relena tucked Heero's phone back into her jacket pocket and resumed pacing along the window. Her reflection walked alongside her, mirrored against the night sky. It was stupid of her to think she should reach out to one of the pilots after so many years. What was the point? They couldn't save him. She couldn't save him. It was up to her mother now. It was up to fate. It was up to a bunch of strangers living their lives on L1 with no idea how they were a part of something so much bigger than themselves. It was up to anyone and anything but her.

Relena had never felt more alone.

*          *          *

"You sure you wanna do this?" Nurse Shane asked the next morning, quirking an eyebrow. "Pretty nasty stuff going on down there, with all the tubes, bags and... shit." She smirked.

Relena smiled a little in response, unable to muster enough strength to laugh at the small joke. "I'll manage," she said. "I want to do this for him."

"Alrighty then," Shane shrugged and handed her a sponge. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She waved her hand goodbye as she left the room. "It ain't gonna be sexy bath time, if that's what you're thinking..."

Relena shook her head, scoffing. She turned to the task at hand, walking over to Heero's bed. A bowl of soapy water waited on the night table, along with shaving gel, a cloth, and a razor.

She lifted the blanket, slowly, and folded it down, stopping just below Heero's knees, where his left leg ended. So used to the sight of him under the blanket, she paused to study his brittle form, lying clad in a flimsy patient gown. Her broken toy-soldier.

Leaning over him, she unfastened the laces at the front, and peeled the gown away carefully. His scrawny chest was marred with surgical scars, traces of the ECMO tubing. His white thighs were riven with similar scarring, blue bruises under his skin along the main arteries, streaking all the way down to his bony kneecaps. A urinary catheterization tube was inserted into his penis, pale and flaccid amid a dark mass of pubic hair. A thin pipe filled with dark yellow fluid snaked down the side of the bed, to a drainage bag. Similarly, a rectal tube was inserted into his rectum, connected to a faecal collector bag, which lay tucked between his legs. It was...

Relena's chest quivered at the sight of him. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. She had to remain clinical about this. This was Heero, but it also wasn't. Not right now. Not like this.

 _I can do this_ , she decided, opening her eyes.

Water dripped into the bowl as she wrung the sponge. It was lukewarm, pleasant. She ran the sponge over him gently, sliding it tenderly over his arms, his shoulders, his chest. She cleaned between the legs, careful not to disturb the catheterization tubes.

 _This is just a body, in need of care_ , she reminded herself, working her way slowly down his legs, gliding the moist sponge lightly over his pale inner thighs. She stopped where the blanket rested just below his knees, dropping flat against the bed on his left side. Her hands reached down to strip the cover away, but then stopped an inch before revealing his stump.

 _No_ , she shook her head, and covered him again. _This is Heero, in need of care_.

Finished with the sponge bath, she dressed him, fastening the gown over his chest. She tucked him under the blanket, nice and warm. Next, she turned to shave him, smearing foaming-white gel on his stubbly cheeks and chin, mindful of the nasogastric feeding tube going into his nose. She turned his head gently left and right, gliding the razor across the familiar angles of his face. She worked quietly, the languid motions immersing her in a deep meditative calm.

Scooping the shaving gel from his left cheek, the razor revealed the light beauty mark she had first noted back in the PSC. She smiled at the sight, reminded of that first glimpse beyond her handsome hero. Little by little, she cleaned away the white foam, revealing something new. Not her teenage dream, not a symbol, nor a crusader. Just a man, plain and simple. Beautiful in his own right.

Using a moist cloth, she cleaned the residual foam from his face, and then dampened his forehead a bit, brushing his bangs aside. She noted a few scattered hairs on the bridge of his nose, and smiled affectionately at the thick brown patch of hair. She had always thought his eyebrows were a tad on the bushy side. Just another one of his lovable imperfections. She had never noticed this excess hair before, and gazing at his handsome face had been one of her favorite pastimes. She chuckled at the thought of him doing a little secret tweaking behind her back...

Relena turned to her handbag, resting on the nightstand, and pulled out a pair of tweezers. Heero would never allow it if he were awake, but he obviously cared enough to groom his eyebrows, which indicated that the patch of surplus hair bothered him. Respecting that, she leaned over him to tweak his eyebrows.

Under any other circumstances, she would have found the situation highly amusing, but no. This was about caring, not teasing. She was doing this for him, because he couldn't right now.

Plucking a particularly long hair from the top of his left eyebrow (seriously, it must have been over an inch long!), she winced at the pain it must cause, but Heero's features remained utterly inert. Moving on to another long hair sticking out of the rest, she tugged it with the tweezers, but it didn't budge on the first attempt. She tried again, harder.

Heero's face scrunched up in pain.

Relena paused, holding the tweezers up in the air. _Could it be?_ she wondered, watching his face carefully. His expression was as blank as it had been these past few months. Uncertain if she had imagined it or not, she pulled out the stubborn eyebrow hair.

Heero grimaced in pain, a minor twitch of his nose.

"Oh my god!" Relena laughed, delighted. This was the first he'd reacted to pain stimuli. She looked around anxiously, torn between running out of the room to get Shane, or simply shaking him awake.

"Heero?" she called out his name, breathless; "Heero, can you hear me?"

No reaction.

She plucked out another thick hair, this time from the bottom of his thick eyebrow, where the skin was most sensitive.

His hand shot up to grab her by the wrist, immobilizing her in a crushing grip.

" _Oh god!_ " she gasped, gawking in shock. "Heero!"

His eyes remained closed, his features blank, but he was still grabbing onto her hand.

Relena burst out laughing, tears brimming her eyes.

"Hey, come on!" She said, tugging her hand away. Heero's arm fell back limply onto the bed. His brows furrowed, and then relaxed again. He was slipping away. She rushed outside to get Grabelsky.

"This is good," the doctor confirmed once he had a look at Heero's vitals. "He's starting to wake up, getting stronger," he said as he checked the blood transfusion going into Heero's arm. He turned to Relena, pushing his glasses down his nose to look at her sternly. "It's going to take some time."

She nodded, trying to keep a straight face. Trying not to get her hopes up.

"This doesn't mean he's getting better," Grabelsky reminded her; "it just means the blood transfusions are doing what they're supposed to."

"Yes, I know," she said, fighting back a smile. "I know."

However, she still couldn't keep her heart from fluttering happily in her chest.

*          *          *

The next morning, Relena brought the violin and helped Heero run his fingers over it. Nothing happened at first, but then, when she pulled it away, Heero grabbed onto it, refusing to let go.

A thin slit of blue was suddenly visible behind his thick eyelashes, his eyelids open just a tad.

"Heero?" she whispered, leaning in for a closer look.

His long pale fingers curled tightly around the violin's neck. Slowly, his eyelids fell fully shut. With an aching heart, Relena watched the sliver of blue disappear once more.

Heero let go, his hand falling at his side.

Hour after hour, she observed him carefully for any sign of consciousness, but nothing happened all day. She held his brittle hand, but he never squeezed back. She longed for the blue of his eyes.

Heero's awareness of his surroundings increased within the next three days. He opened his eyes from time to time, but never really looked at her or responded to her when she spoke to him. He just stared off into space before his eyes fluttered shut again. Sometimes he opened his eyes for a brief moment; on other times, he would stare ahead blearily for minutes before drifting back to sleep.

Then, after another day or so, he began tracking her with his eyes as Relena moved around the room. One time, he even turned his head towards the sound of her voice. Grabelsky assured her that visual and auditory tracking was another good sign of improvement.

Next, he began to follow some commands, such as "squeeze my hand", or "look at me". He didn't always follow instructions, but as he got better, he obliged her requests more regularly. With each passing day, Heero scored a better result on the Glasgow Coma Scale. Dr. Grabelsky assured her Heero would be awake soon enough, however he was still not out of the woods. His blood count continued to drop regularly, and hematology had to increase the frequency of his blood transfusions. They said he wouldn't survive more than a day without them.

She brought him the violin again, but his fingers didn't even stir when she pulled it away. She resigned herself to her previous routine, working on his genealogy book on her computer until late in the evening, violin music playing on her phone as she tweaked text and graphics one last time. Heero was right. She _did_ use the semicolon way too often.

Chuckling, she looked up to share this humorous revelation with him. Something was wrong. She walked over to the bed, looking at him closely, and saw wet traces of tears on his clean-shaven cheeks. Two thin streaks, already drying in the cool night air.

"Heero?" she whispered timidly, and when the room fell silent again, she realized that the violin music had stopped playing on her phone. She had left it on the nightstand, playing close to him, but the battery must have run out. She hadn't even noticed. Could that have brought him to tears?

Relena swiftly plugged her phone to a charger and put the music back on, turning to watch Heero's face closely. It could have just been her imagination, or maybe the dim night light was playing tricks on her, but she thought maybe she saw him smile. Just a little, just maybe.

*          *          *

Day 79. Finally, after ten days, her mother called with an update.

"They were quite shocked when I first approached them," she told Relena, who stood outside in the ICU waiting room, holding her phone to her ear while looking out into a stormy night. "It's a good thing I took copies of those passports you gave me. It helped."

Relena nodded, anxious to hear the rest. She was sure her mother had done a superb job handling the Lowenskies, but right now all she wanted was the bottom line. It all came down to this:

"Were they willing to help?" she asked, inhaling deeply and holding the air in her lungs until she felt they might explode.

Her mother was quiet for a couple of seconds, and that was all Relena needed to know. She closed her eyes in despair and leaned her head against the cool wall-to-wall window.

"No go?" she asked in a small, hopeless, tone, doing her best to contain the tears tickling in the back of her throat.

"I'm so sorry, Relena."

Warm tears squeezed out of Relena's closed eyes.

"They were all very helpful, but there was no match, except for a little boy named Mikhail. He's Heero's youngest first cousin, once removed. He had tested positive, but he is only four and his mother refuses to approve the donation procedure. I tried to convince her, but she was very adamant that her son will not go through a surgical procedure under general anesthesia for someone who's practically a complete stranger." She sighed. "Het spijt me zo, schatje." _(I am so sorry, sweetheart)_

"Het geeft niet, moeder," _(It's okay, mother)_ Relena choked on her tears, which spilled quietly from her closed eyes. "I know you tried."

An awkward silence followed while her mother no doubt tried to search for words to comfort her.

"My flight is not until tomorrow," she finally said, "I'm landing in Luxemburg, so I will go see your aunt Annette before heading back to the US. I will be back by Thursday, okay?"

"Sure, mother," Relena rasped forlornly, her forehead still pressed to the cold window. She opened her eyes to gaze dully at the dark. "Take your time. Have a safe trip."

"Ik hou van je, mijn lieve meisje." _(I love you, my darling girl)_

"I love you too, moeder. Thank you for doing this."

"Of course. I will see you in a few days." She hung up.

Relena clutched the phone in her fist and remained with her head leaning against the window, tears glistening on her closed eyelashes. She had run out of hope. She was going to lose him. This man she had loved since her teen years, this man who had sacrificed everything for the greater good, a man who had at one point saved the world from destruction, and no one was willing to save him.

*          *          *

The engine rattled and clinked as Relena's battered sedan rolled into the hospital driveway. Every single part of the old car seemed to tremble and prattle, groaning like a wounded animal, before she parked it under a large wilting tree and killed the engine. It had overheated after hours of standing idle in traffic. Not long after having bought it, her car already had one foot in the grave, while Heero had the other.

A deadly pile-up on the NY-27 had caused traffic jams about a dozen miles long. There wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't feel cramped and a sharp ache pulsated around her eye sockets. A quick glance towards the rearview mirror confirmed that she looked about as bad as she felt, with hair frizzing out of her ponytail, bags under her eyes, and a small red line under her lower lip at the corner of her mouth, created after hours of biting down her frustration.

She was so sick of the Hamptons' notorious traffic. She hoped whoever crashed their car today had died a _gruesome **violent** death!_ Well, not really, but she certainly couldn't find it within her to offer any compassion. The past few months had turned her a little selfish, numbed by countless excruciating trips up and down Montauk Highway. Traffic accidents and tragedy had become just another daily inconvenience.

Snatching her handbag off the passenger's seat, she turned to the door, but something yanked her back. The bag's handle got stuck around the handbrake. She tsked in annoyance and tugged it free, then stumbled out of the car and thrust the door shut. It bounced back an inch, refusing to lock. Relena kicked it, slamming her boot into the door. The mechanism fastened with an audible click, but Relena gave it a few more kicks for good measure, grunting each time her foot met metal.

Stupid piece of junk! Stupid everything!

She stomped towards the ICU, clutching her handbag under her armpit, boots tapping in an angry rhythm. Her ponytail jolted with each brisk step as she marched into the waiting hall––

––and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a Preventer duty jacket's back side. The familiar khaki shoulder patches and star insignia hung from a strapping masculine frame. Hit with a pang of recognition, her heart immediately supplied: _Heero_. Her breath hitched in her throat.

 _It can't be_ , her mind hurried to reason. The man obviously wasn't Heero, but he was a Preventer, and he was speaking with Dr. Grabelsky and another man, in a black suit. The agent faced away from her. Presented only with his back, the only notable feature about him was his smooth black hair, pulled back severely and gathered into a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck. His animated hand gestures, sharp and precise, were too expressive to be akin to Heero's.

Her forehead creased with a wary frown.

"Helluva morning..." Nurse Shane was suddenly by her side, huffing in annoyance. "Legal sure have their hands full now."

Relena observed Grabelsky's worried face as he took off his eyeglasses to rub the bridge of his nose. The man in the suit nodded at whatever the agent was saying.

"What's going on?" She turned to Shane.

"Goddamn _Previes_ ," the young nurse grumbled, gesturing with her chin towards the tall agent. "This _dick_ came in this morning, threatening to sue!"

"Sue? Who? The hospital?"

"Yes! For saving Heero's life! Can you believe it?" She flailed her arms for emphasis. "Legal almost had a heart attack! They're all over us now."

Relena returned to examine the three men arguing across the large room, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"But... But _why_...?"

Shane heaved a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Turns out Heero has a DNR order.[2] Agent _Asshole_ over there is like his power of attorney or something," she scoffed, "What does he expect us to do – _kill_ him? Geez!"

Having heard enough, Relena hurried across the room, grabbed the agent by the shoulder and whirled him around to face her. He was taller than her; even taller than Heero.

"What is this?!" she demanded, hissing the words up at his face. He was young, around her age, with severe-looking Asian features and dark narrow eyes that widened slightly as their gaze fell upon her. She was used to this startled reaction. Many still recognized her as the former _"Queen of the World"_.

"Miss Pea–– Miss Darlian," the agent sputtered, then cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth. By the time he lowered his hand, he had already regained a cool composure.

"This is... quite unexpected," his halting voice was deep and polite as he noticeably ran his eyes over her. People tended to forget she was no longer sixteen, and she imagined not many expected to see her looking like a train wreck.

"You bet it is!" she flared. "What's with this DNR business? What gives you the right to walk in here, demanding they end Heero's life?!"

"Relena," Dr. Grabelsky stepped in, raising both hands in a pacifying gesture. "Please, calm down. Let Agent Chang explain. Hear him out, please."

"Chang?" Her head snapped up. "Not Chang _Wufei_? As in..."

"Yes," the agent confirmed, nodding curtly. "You assume correctly."

"B-but..." She lowered her gaze to the floor, frowning. "What... What are you doing here?" Then her confusion morphed into anger, which she directed at Wufei. "Why now, all of a sudden?"

"The hospital's notification only reached me yesterday," Wufei replied, his voice calm and steady.

Relena shot a dirty look towards the man in the black suit, and he smiled uneasily, avoiding her eyes.

"Perhaps we should take this to my office," the man suggested. Relena gnashed her teeth at him, preparing a nasty retort, when Dr. Grabelsky cleared his throat.

"Relena," he rebuked softly, "Mister Henkel is only here to help. He's from our legal department."

"Why do we need the _legal department_?" she snarled, eyeing the lawyer in contempt; "There's obviously been a mistake."

"I'm afraid not," the lawyer said. "Agent Chang has alerted us to the fact that Heero had signed a No Extraordinary Measures order, which means no medical procedures can be taken to prolong his life, aside from palliative care."

Relena felt the color drain from her cheeks. "P-palliative care?"

"Yes," Grabelsky interjected, unease clear on his face. "That means that we were wrong putting him on the Ecmo, but the blood transfusions are more of a legal grey area..."

"It doesn't normally fall within the definition," the lawyer, Henkel, hurried to intervene. "As I explained to Agent Chang, the transfusions are only considered as extraordinary measures in the case of an incurable disease."

"Which MS Syndrome _clearly_ is," Wufei cut-in harshly. "There is no known cure. You were already out of line when resuscitating him," he accused, growling the words through clenched teeth. "Having him rely on blood donations is a––"

"The hospital had _no way_ of knowing about the DNR," Henkel argued, waving his finger at Wufei. "Especially with CPR already underway, performed by someone close to Heero." He pointed at Relena, and Wufei's harsh side-glance soon followed. She ducked her head between her shoulders, chastised.

"Our staff merely picked up from there," Henkel resumed his defense, addressing Wufei. "It's up to the patient to––"

"The _patient_ was flatlining on the table!" Wufei retorted, waving his fists. "He had no way of––"

"Stop it!" Relena snapped, raising both hands to silence the two men. She turned to Wufei, looking up to meet his dark eyes. "What's done is done. Heero's no longer on life support. There's nothing more you can do here."

"I'm afraid Agent Chang is in his full right to intervene," the lawyer concluded. "He's here to represent Agent Yuy's best interests."

"And what do _you_ know about his _best_ interests?" She glared at Henkel, then at Wufei. "You know nothing," she told him. "I'm the one who's been here through every miserable second of it. You don't know anything."

A tense silence followed, both doctor and lawyer watching the fierce battle of will between Relena and the Preventer agent. They stared each other down, mouths severe.

"Come," Wufei finally said, gesturing a hand towards the line of vending machines by the window. "I'll buy you coffee."

*          *          *

Two drivers battled for a single parking spot down below. Relena sat on her regular waiting chair in front of the panoramic window, gazing numbly at the vehicles playing chicken over a damn parking space. She was vaguely aware of Wufei standing by the vending machine a few feet from her. Her eyes stung after staring into the grey light pouring through the window. A storm brewed in the horizon.

Inhaling deeply, she combed her fingers through her hair, arm trembling as she pushed it back from her face, and released a shaky sigh.

"Here," Wufei handed her a steaming paper cup. "Coffee, black."

Relena looked up, inspecting the man towering over her in his pristine uniform and immaculate ponytail. What did she look like, to him? A small defeated woman, sitting slouched in a plastic waiting chair, dressed in rumpled jeans and an oversized men's leather jacket, lifeless oily hair falling over her red puffy eyes...

Looking away to avoid his scrutiny, Relena nodded in gratitude and accepted the beverage with both hands.

Wufei took a seat next to her, holding his own cup of black coffee. They looked outside, surveying the endless duels over scarce parking, while sipping coffee quietly, avoiding each other's eyes.

"His power of attorney..." Relena finally murmured, taking a small sip as she watched an old woman step out of her car, retrieving a walker from the trunk as her husband struggled to step out of the passenger seat. "How did that happen?"

The old woman went over to her husband, helping him out the car and to his walker.

"I recruited Heero, back in '97," Wufei then said, leaning onto his knees with both elbows, coffee cupped between his hands. He hadn't torn his gaze away from the window, watching the elderly couple make their way slowly towards the entrance.

"I offered him a way to put his skills to good use, a place to belong."

"And he took the offer?" Relena marveled, eyebrows furrowing as she turned to him. "Just like that?"

Not long before that, on Christmas '96, deep within Mariemaia Khushrenada's bunker, Heero had vowed never to kill again. She had been right there when the slurred words had left his mouth, seconds after he had fired an empty gun at the small child-turned-tyrant. Then again, he had been severely concussed when he'd said it, before collapsing into her arms. Maybe it had been just his wishful thinking, a small truth slipping past his defenses as they crumbled into unconsciousness. At any rate, it had turned out to be an empty promise.

"He was wandering around with nothing better to do, so yes. He took the offer." Wufei straightened back up, leaning into the seat. "It took some convincing, but eventually he relented. What else was he to do?" He concluded, and sipped some more coffee.

Relena stared at her coffee. What, indeed?

"CTU operatives lead a dangerous life," Wufei continued, his hard features fixed on the window ahead. "Preventer demands that we all have a medical power of attorney, if there's no next of kin. Heero didn't have anyone, so he appointed me."

He swirled the coffee in the cup, staring at the muddy liquid, jaw clenched.

"I'm the one who had to make the call about his leg. He never forgave me for it." Wufei turned to face her, something pained and honest in his dark eyes. "That was when he signed the DNR. I feel obligated to honor his wishes this time around."

Somehow, Relena managed to nod in acknowledgement, her neck stiff.

"You were partners." She set her coffee down on the chair beside her, not in the mood to drink.

"For a while," Wufei said. "We worked together in Beijing."

"Yes, I know. Before he transferred to the Middle East." Heero had mentioned that in passing on their first date, which had been more like a job interview.

"That's right." he frowned, regarding her closely. "Heero told you about that?"

"He was with an agent in Tel Aviv," she ventured a guess that might lead him to think she knew more than she let on.

Wufei nodded, falling for it. "Agent Sa'ar," he confirmed. "Seven years older. Dark, exotic. A highly capable agent. Heero was..."

" _Smitten_?" She uttered sarcastically and Wufei snorted, shaking his head.

"He was _eighteen_ ," he corrected, scrunching his face in dismay, "and he had never lived in the real world. I suspect their attachment was more carnal in nature, though I never made it my business to ask."

Relena nodded faintly, recalling what little Heero had told her about the mystery woman... his first love interest. Funny, she had always thought herself as his one and only. Her stomach churned at the thought of him being infatuated with anyone else, let alone when it was purely physical...

"When Sa'ar moved back to Tel Aviv, Heero had followed suit. Stayed there for three years, so I imagine it was a beneficial arrangement. He had made a critical contribution to the division, until..."

"She ended it," Relena surmised.

"Right after he had lost his leg," Wufei muttered and emptied his coffee in one gulp.

Relena lifted her teary eyes to the window, biting on her lower lip, teeth chewing on the red mark already present there. Heero's first broken heart... right after he had lost a limb. Broken both inside and out, it was no wonder his heart had soon taken ill, and later succumbed to alcoholism. She understood, now more than ever.

"Lebanon was a real game changer," Wufei said, and tossed his empty coffee into a nearby bin, scoring a perfect basket with a single free throw.

"Heero lost everything. I tried to be there, but..." he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the chair. "He still resents me for allowing the doctors to amputate. We haven't spoken in five years. I take full responsibility. I'm here to make amends."

"If you want to help him, then don't end his life," Relena implored, placing her hand over his crossed arms. He tensed, looking at her with narrowed eyes, wary. "Save it instead," she insisted. "There must be _something_ we can do. All these men... dying... and for what?"

Wufei pulled back, uncrossing his arms from under her touch. She moved away, placing her hands in her lap. He stood up, rigid. Relena turned in her seat to watch him pace by the window, hands clasped behind his back.

"Preventer alone must employ hundreds of former MS pilots," she reasoned. "Surely, something is being done about MS Syndrome."

Wufei snorted. "The medical community and the politicians are at odds, and we're all caught in the crossfire," he muttered disdainfully. "Researchers are paid off to give a less daunting impression of the statistics around MS Syndrome." He stopped, spinning to gaze out the window, his fingers still locked behind his stiff back.

"It is true that many agents have taken ill, but it's all kept under wraps. Director Une is trying, but she's up against very strong lobbyists in the ESUN. As it stands, the government refuses to give priority to the matter. They won't pour funds into researching a cure."

He peered over his shoulder, glancing at her over his Preventer jacket.

"They'd rather we all just wither away and die quietly."

"And now you're here to see to it that he does," she accused. "You're no better," she glowered at him from her chair, eyes burning as though seething with fire.

Wufei whirled around to face her fully.

"How long would you have him rely on blood transfusions?" he challenged her, his pointy chin rising in a spiteful gesture. "A year? Several? Do you think he wants to survive on blood donations? What kind of a life would that be? How long before the blood bank refuses to sustain his life? And then what? Heero doesn't want this. He made that very clear."

"How can you be so sure?" Relena spat, her cheeks burning with anger. "It's been _five years_ since you've last seen him. Five years since he had signed that order."

"So I'll ask you," Wufei sneered, his thin lips curling haughtily. He approached her, one brisk step at a time, his polished black dress shoes clicking against the floor. He stopped a couple of inches in front of her, hands behind his back as he looked down at her with stern black eyes.

"What do you think Heero would have me do?"

Pinned under his ruthless gaze, Relena faltered. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her mind reeling in a desperate attempt to grasp at straws.

_'I feel like falling, but I just..._

_I keep standing, and it's..._

_I'm so tired of standing still...'_

Heero's pained words echoed dimly in her mind, an intimate conversation whispered in the dark, eons ago...

He wanted release. She knew that. Heero had said so himself, his raspy voice aching for rest.

 _'I fought through it because I wanted to be a better man for you, Relena,'_ he had said after he had gotten out of rehab and sought her out to apologize.

_'I feel that I should make it up to you somehow.'_

Was she the reason he had been struggling to keep standing? Was it all just for her? She had no right keeping him here against his will. And yet...

Her mind flashed back to what he had written in his battered little notepad. His most intimate confessions. She had read and re-read them over a thousand times these past few months, falling asleep on a tear-stained pillow with his notepad clutched to her heart and his whiskey bottle on the nightstand.

**Because I need something more.**

**Because I need help.**

**Because I'm still fighting this.**

**Because I need to do better.**

**Because I want to change too.**

**Because I want to be like everyone else.**

**Because I want to be real again.**

No. Heero hadn't given up. Not yet. He hadn't opened the bottle. Instead, he had listed all of the reasons why he wanted to keep going, keep trying. He didn't want to be released from his struggle to keep standing. He just needed support to keep upright. He didn't want to struggle alone.

_'My name. The one I was born under. It's Seiki. That's as far back as I can possibly go...'_

_'So I'd laugh. Would that be so bad?'_

_'I had fun today... We should do this more.'_

_'Has it ever occurred to you that we might share the same interests?'_

_'Being together makes it a little easier to move forward.'_

_'Life turned out to be so... ordinary... didn't it?'_ she had asked, back in the car.

 _'Yes. It did,'_ Heero had agreed.

Relena had assumed he meant that as a critique, life being a boring disappointment, but he hadn't meant that at all.

Heero was right where he wanted to be.

Relena stood up, stretching to her full height in front of Wufei. Shoulders back, breasts front and center. She looked him squarely in the eyes, and he frowned, his stern posture recoiling a little.

"He would have you tear that DNR to shreds and shove it where the sun doesn't shine," she spoke firmly, feeling her blood pumping hot through her veins. "Because Heero wants to live. I know that for a fact."

"Because he has you?" Wufei scoffed.

"Because we have each other," she retorted, keeping her voice steady and strong, confident as though addressing a room full of hostile politicians.

An awkward silence fell between them. Relena refused to look away, and Wufei's face seemed to have frozen in bewilderment.

Then, it cracked with a small smile. He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he moved away, taking a seat.

"Five years is indeed a long time," he muttered to himself, sighing as he slumped back in the chair. He reached a hand behind his head, scratching above his ponytail while gazing up at the ceiling. "What would you have me do, then?"

Relena paused, thinking. She tugged her jacket down, smoothing the wrinkled leather, and settled back into her seat. Her eyes found a young couple out in the parking lot, walking smiling to their car, the young man holding a baby carry-cot, and the woman holding her slightly-bulging belly as she wobbled by her husband's side.

"I found his family," she said, gazing wistfully at the young parents. "On L1."

Wufei lowered his head back down to regard her with obvious interest.

"An uncle, and an aunt... a bunch of cousins... On his father's side."

"That is... commendable," he acknowledged, turning to look at the couple and baby stepping into a shiny SUV. "I didn't know he has a family."

"He doesn't know either."

"Then how...?"

"He told me his name," Relena fixed her eyes on Wufei, as fierce as she could manage. "Before he got sick."

Wufei's lips parted slightly, but he remained speechless. Relena studied him tensely, trying to convey her point with a sharp glare. Seiki had told her his name because what they had... it _meant_ something. More than a first teenage crush, more than a physical infatuation, more than anything they'd had before.

"I see," Wufei let out thoughtfully.

"I've been keeping busy, looking for any scrap of information I could find," she continued, "but there's no one left of his immediate family. His mother died on Bulge in '86, and he had lost his father on L3-X18999, back in '88. No siblings."

"Impressive," Wufei praised, something akin to respect in his voice. "I always assumed Heero never knew his parents. He told you this?"

"Some of it," Relena shrugged her shoulders, "The rest was just... research."

Wufei nodded, his lips curling into a hint of a smile.

"There was one match," she continued. "Out of his third-degree relatives. A little boy... Mikhail Lowensky. Four years old. His mother refused to go through with the donation. She didn't want to risk her son's life for someone like Heero."

Wufei nodded, his face grave. "That's understandable."

"Yes," she sighed, "but it also means I'm out of options. We can't find a match in the registry. Heero's Space-born... it's hard to find a match Earth-side. Something about the blood just isn't the same... The products he's been getting here are barely keeping him alive."[3]

Relena heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she hunched forward in defeat.

"He's going to die soon."

They each stared at their feet, saying nothing.

"Then there's nothing more I can do here," Wufei concluded and stood up. He reached his hand towards her, offering a handshake.

"Goodbye, Miss Darlian," he said, and she reached up for his hand, holding it in a loose grip. He shook it firmly.

"I wish there was something more to say, but as it stands, I have nothing to offer, so I must take my leave."

She stood up, letting go of his hand.

"Does this mean you're..."

"Leaving, yes," he cut in, before she could ask what he was going to do about the blood transfusions. "I have important business to attend to. I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," she murmured politely, numb. "Thank you, Agent Chang. Thank you for coming all this way. I'm sure he would have appreciated your support, past resentment regardless."

Wufei nodded once, a curt gesture of his chin, and walked away, leaving the ICU waiting room. Relena remained standing by the window long after he'd gone, feeling a little... lost. Abandoned to her grief once more.

She grieved for Heero, and she grieved for the world he had fought to save. There was so much more to correct about the world. If she truly wished to go back to politics, she surely had her work cut out for her. In the very least, she would make sure Heero didn't die in vain.

*          *          *

 

[1] Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie, [Chapter 13 – Do You Believe in Fairies?](http://www.literatureproject.com/peter-pan/peter-pan_13.htm)

[2] DNR: Do Not Resuscitate

[3] Researchers have observed the effect of long-term space flight on the blood. Extrapolating from that, it's safe to assume that a Colonist's' blood count and chemistry would differ slightly. I imagine it would affect compatibility between an Earther to a Colonist when it comes to stem-cell or bone-marrow donations. But what do I know? ^^;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued next week.


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple of days went by in a blur. Legal continued debating whether or not the hospital should provide care for Heero, considering he had signed his own death sentence. Dr. Grabelsky attested the moral implications, and they spent hours behind closed doors deliberating ethics and legislation, while Heero drifted in and out of a semi-conscious state, never opening his eyes for more than a few minutes at a time.

Meanwhile, Relena had stopped eating, barely slept, and hardly ever left Heero's bedside. She avoided looking in the mirror whenever she happened to be standing in front of one, having no desire to know what she looked like right now – angry, shabby, and distressed. Coffee and candy kept her going, and she frequented the vending machines outside the ICU.

Slipping coins into the slot, Relena caught a glimpse of her reflection on the glass – sloppy sweats, crimped hair, pale features, and bags under her eyes... She looked like a zombie. A dead woman walking. Heero was right; she was a disgusting slob. What she wouldn't give to be spending a lazy afternoon with him rearranging her closet, berating her for messing it up when it'd only been a few weeks since he had last OCD'ed all over it...

She sighed and bent down to retrieve her sugary dinner from the dispenser. The familiar sound of soft footfalls approaching caught her attention, the rhythm engraved in her mind since toddlerhood. She looked up to see her mother, immaculate as ever, stepping in from the hallway, looking around in search of her.

"Moeder," Relena rasped, straightening back up. "You're back." Somehow, she found the strength to smile.

"Relena," her mother greeted, smiling at the sight of her, and stepped closer.

They met halfway. Relena threw her arms around her mother's waist, leaning in for a hug.

Surprised, her mother stiffened, but then returned the hug.

"I'm so sorry, Relena," she whispered and kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair. "She agreed to the test. She didn't think anything would come out of it, but then it did and... I'm so sorry, schatje."

Relena nodded, eyes closed, her tears staining her mother's dress. "I know," she murmured, "I know you tried, mother."

"They're very good people," her mother said, sighing. "It's just that... he's such a sweet little boy, and..."

"I understand," Relena muffled into her mother's chest. "It's okay. I know."

Holding Relena's hand, her mother guided her towards the row of chairs by the window. A light drizzle sprayed the dark glass with glinting orange droplets reflecting the parking lot lights. They took a seat, Relena wiping away tears of exhaustion as her mother set her hefty handbag in her lap, opening the zipper.

"I have something for you," she said, rummaging through her designer bag. Relena scrunched her face in distaste, knowing full well her mother was not beyond giving her a tactless souvenir from L1.

Instead, she pulled out a thick envelope.

"They didn't let me leave empty handed," her mother said, presenting it to her. "They gave me this. For Heero."

"Money?" Relena scowled, eyeing the envelope in disdain.

"No," her mother laughed quietly, "Something far more valuable."

She opened the envelope, withdrawing a thick stack of photographs.

Relena gasped. "Is this..."

"For your book," her mother smiled, showing her the photos. "These are copies, of course. Some of the originals date back over five hundred years," she said as she leafed through the pictures, shuffling through them and pausing on the most significant ones. She showed Relena an old grainy black and white photo of a uniformed man playing the violin.

"That's Mikhail Lowensky," she said, pointing at the man's face. He had messy dark hair and a strong jawline. If she squinted hard enough, Relena could see the resemblance between the man and Heero's father.

"He was a Russian officer," her mother explained. "He had fought against the Germans on the Eastern Front in the First World War. The boy is named after him."

"Yes... I've read about him," Relena mumbled vaguely. "He kept a journal. It was published back in 1953 AD... long after he and his entire family were wiped out by the Nazis. Only one brother survived... and the violin."

Her mother nodded, riffling through the photos again. "Yes, well, those were very... unfortunate times."

She paused on another picture, a colorful photograph of three children: an older boy, tall and hearty, a young girl, with thick brown pigtails, and the youngest – a small child with messy dark hair and a sulky face. Siblings, judging by their resemblance. The trio stood in front of a large tenement building, a colony's metal casing in the blurry background.

"This was taken in AC 158. Mishka, Anya, and Adin," her mother explained, pointing at each of the three siblings, before placing her finger above the youngest child's face. "Heero's father. Six years old."

Relena leaned in closer, studying the boy's petulant little face. It reminded her of Heero's fake passport photo, and she smiled a little. The apple didn't fall far from the tree...

"Mishka said it is one of very few photos of the three of them together. He enlisted not long after." Rummaging through a few more photographs, she showed Relena another picture of the three siblings. This time, Adin was a bit older, and Mishka was wearing Alliance uniform, smiling proudly at the camera. Anya, now without the pigtails, was smiling reluctantly, while little Adin glared at the camera, his small arms crossed over his chest.

"That's in AC 161, when Mishka enlisted, just before he was sent to train on Earth. Adin is nine." Her mother pointed at his glowering face. "You can see the family resemblance, wouldn't you say?" she let out with a soft chuckle. "Something around the eyes, I think. Or maybe it's the nose. It's hard to tell. Heero's features are more Asian than Slavic, aren't they...?"

Relena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _"Asian"_ was such a wide and varied definition, and she found it insulting that her mother used the term so ignorantly. But that was just the way things were where Relena grew up. Some people were Nordic, some Germanic, Slavic was acceptable, but on the fringes, and then there were all the rest, ending with Asians, Africans and Jews. An age-old hierarchy of races that never really vanished from the collective mind of European high society. Opening her mouth to educate her mother on the subject would be a waste of breath, as she would be going against millennia of human history. On any other day, maybe. But tonight, while waiting for life to step slowly out of the man she loved... Relena simply wasn't up to it.

"And then there's this," her mother switched to another photo. "Adin had sent it while Mishka was on tour, back in '73. He thought you should have it. This is the only original."

She handed her the photo, and Relena accepted it with reverent hands, feeling its meaningful weight.

It was a picture of two uniformed cadets, OZ Special Forces. A young man – Adin, obviously – and a young Japanese woman with short dark hair peeking under her military cadet hat. She was looking at the camera with a pair of unmistakably blue eyes, their vivid color visible even under the brim of her cap.

A picture of Heero's parents, seven years before he was even born.

"Oh my god..." Relena rasped, her fingers trembling as she reached to run them over the old photograph, tracing the young woman's fair features. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to find a proper photo of Aoi. The only one she had managed to find was a blurry passport photo from old newsreels about the AC 186 attack on Bulge. In this picture, however, one could perfectly make out Aoi's features. She was beautiful, her lean features sharp and full of purpose. Just like Heero's.

He had to see this. He simply had to see this...

"Mother, this is... this is..." Looking up, she smiled. "This is perfect."

She hugged her mother, wrapping her arms around her slender white neck while clutching the photograph behind her meticulous updo.

"Thank you, moeder," she whispered, closing her eyes as she leaned her cheek on her mother's delicate shoulder. "Thank you, for everything..."

"Of course," her mother said softly, raising her arms to embrace her.

Tears accumulated in Relena's throat, painful and suffocating. She drowned, gasping for air. Her body quaked as months of agony begged to gush out of her. Unable to suppress the sobs any longer, Relena let go and finally allowed herself a good cry.

*          *          *

That night, long after her mother had fallen asleep next to her in one of the waiting chairs, Relena went back to Heero's room. A small night light above his bed provided faint illumination, casting long shadows across his blanket-covered form. His arms lay sprawled at his side, inert, pale and bony. Months of hospitalization had eaten away at his hard work to regain muscle tone.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to stop more tears from getting the better of her, Relena closed the door behind her and stepped inside. Standing by the bed, she leaned over Heero, and gathered his lolling head into her arms.

She traced her fingers across his gaunt features, her fingertips ghosting over his chapped lips. His breath was soft and warm against the pads of her fingers as she traced the perfectly-sculpted curves of his upper lip. Dipping her head in for a kiss, she stopped less than an inch above his gaping mouth to gaze forlornly at his closed eyes. His eyelids seemed sickly translucent, puffy and rimmed with purplish veins after months of deep slumber.

"I know you're tired, Heero," she whispered, her hushed words brushing over his lips. "You've been through so much, and you're tired." Reaching for his limp hand, she linked their fingers, and squeezed tight. She closed her eyes, breath faltering.

"If you have to go, Heero, you can go." Fat tears lingered to her closed eyelashes. "I won't keep you here, but..." She inhaled through her nose, trying to speak over the lump in her throat. "I would be so grateful if you stayed, Heero."

Relena opened her eyes, smiling down at his sleeping face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It would be so great if you stayed..." She held onto his long bony fingers, crushing his limp hand to her chest. Her other hand stroked his hair gently as she leaned in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Warm, but lifeless. She rested her head against his, forehead to forehead, her eyes closed.

"Please..." she pleaded, her tears trickling down his face. "Please stay with me. Seiki... please."

Holding her breath, Relena opened her eyes and pulled back a little, half-expecting to find his eyes opening like a fairytale ending, but nothing happened.

Not a damn thing.

*          *          *

Day 83.

Relena snatched her chocolate bar from the vending machine and turned to face the empty waiting room. She took a seat on the vacant row in front of the window, staring numbly out at the dark parking lot, while nibbling mindlessly on her candy bar.

"Relena," a soft male voice called her name. She didn't look up, recognizing the voice as Dr. Grabelsky. The man obviously took pity on her, because he checked in on her whenever he could. Shane had been fussing over her too, lately. It was very thoughtful of them, but as of late, Relena hasn't been in a very appreciative mood.

"Alan," she greeted in a clipped tone, without tearing her eyes away from the window. She was way past pleasantries. Good thing her mother wasn't here today.

"I have some news," Dr. Grabelsky said, fingers fumbling with his lap coat. The man was aware he was treading on thin ice. If he was going to tell her they were going to pull the plug on Heero, she was going to–

"A man came in last night," the doctor continued, unaware of her destructive train of thought; "He asked specifically to be tested for a bone marrow donation for Heero."

Relena's eyes narrowed warily. She turned to him, scowling. "What man?" she grunted snippily, even though she didn't mean to.

"He asked to remain anonymous," Grabelsky explained, but he was smiling. "All I can say is that he's a perfect match."

It took Relena a moment to digest what his words meant.

"You... You mean..?"

Grabelsky nodded eagerly, a fond fatherly smile on his face. "Yes. We have a donor."

A wide, uninhibited smile slowly formed on her lips, her pale face suddenly beaming.

"You're serious?" she huffed, her breath stolen away.

"I am," Grabelsky nodded again. "He will be back here tomorrow for a few more tests, before we go through with the donation. With any luck, we'll be able to start transplant procedures within a day or two."

"That's... That's _great!_ " Relena exclaimed, jumping joyfully to her feet. "I can't believe this is actually happening!" She called out, pacing back and forth in front of the window. She stopped and whirled around to look at the doctor, who remained sitting on the waiting chair, watching her with a big smile on his face.

"Who... Who is this man? Where did he come from? How... How did he know?"

Grabelsky laughed, raising both his arms in mock- surrender. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, but trust me – this is what I'd call a miracle, and we're still a month away from Christmas..." He laughed. Relena smiled back.

"So this is it, right? This means he'll make it, right? He's going to get better after he'll receive this donation."

Dr. Grabelsky stood up and took off his glasses. He cleaned them with his lab coat. "If all goes well," he said, putting his glasses back on, "Heero is looking at a full recovery, though it could take some time. We'll know more after tomorrow."

*          *          *

The next day, Day 84, Relena waited outside Hematology to see who was coming in or out of the department. If someone was coming to save Heero's life, she wanted to know whom. Heero would want to know too. She had to find out.

Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, she had even gone home last night for some much needed grooming. She had showered, washed her hair, and even shaved her legs for a change.

Standing in front of the foggy mirror, she had stared at her reflection until the steam cleared, revealing every detail of her nude form. Her breasts, her abdomen, her hips... A wide collection of curvy imperfections. Human. Bare. Beautiful.

She stood beside her own reflection, and just... looked at herself. She stroked her fingers gently under her breasts, tracing the asymmetric mounds. It really wasn't so bad, being stripped down to the blank canvas. There was beauty in that too; the rawness, the indecorous nakedness of man. One could only grow from there.

Leaning into the mirror to tweak her eyebrows, Relena even smirked at her reflection. She styled her bangs with a blow dryer, put on her makeup and a nice set of clothes – putting herself back together again. Afterwards, she stood in front of the mirror again, examining her handiwork. Still human. Still plain. Still standing. But not standing still. The girl in the mirror... she was no longer the girl who had stood on a cliff, shouting at the ocean from the edge of nowhere. She was someone else now, someone new. Someone beyond perfection.

Neglecting the sloppy pair of jeans and Heero's leather jacket, Relena had gone for a slicker look: black skinny trousers, and a nice purple cardigan sweater over a plain white blouse, complete with an elegant pair of boots. For the first time in months, she felt like a person again, one marching forward towards a known destination. Determined. Unyielding. Focused.

As of early that morning, Relena sat outside Hematology, pretending to read a book. She had chosen a large A4 book with a hardcover, not caring what it was about; she just needed it to hide her face while scanning the comers and goers over the pages. When a familiar nurse or doctor passed by she raised the book, hiding behind it. It was stupid, but she was at her wit's end after close to three months of dreadful anticipation. This wasn't her time to shine as clever, cunning, and charming- politician Relena Darlian. This was all about desperate, lonely, hair-trigger-away-from-losing-her-shit Relena Darlian. Still focused, still determined, but grasping at straws. This was her endgame move, however childish and improper. She simply had to know.

The hours ticked by slowly. It was already past noon. She hadn't even taken a bathroom break, her eyes tracking every person walking through the hematology doors since early morning. No one had stood out to her as a mysterious stranger. Hardly any men walked by all morning; not alone, anyway. Could she have missed something? Maybe the mysterious donor had come with a spouse? Maybe he had been admitted during the night?

Frustrated, Relena set her book aside and got up to stretch. She groaned as her cramped muscles found release, joints cracking loudly.

Maybe she'd have better luck inside the ward. She grabbed her book and walked towards the doors, holding the large hardcover tucked under her armpit. Entering Hematology, she looked left and right, her eyes searching the empty hallways to make sure no one saw her come in. She passed by the nurses' station, deliberately looking the other way in case someone recognized her. So busy trying to remain invisible, she didn't notice she was walking in someone else's path, until she bumped into a tall and stiff torso, nearly dropping the book she held under her arm.

"Excuse me," the man said in a quiet baritone voice.

"That's fine," she hurried to assure, but the man had already walked away.

Relena froze, her mind buzzing with an eerie sense of déjà vu. She turned around slowly, wide eyes looking up at the retreating figure leaving Hematology – a tall broad man, wearing a brown trench coat with the collar pointing up and a dark flat-cap on his head, thick brown hair sticking out from under the hat. She clutched the book close to her, her mind flashing back to a similar encounter many years ago, on her sixteenth birthday. She had bumped into Heero on her shuttle back to Earth, never realizing it was him until he had already left the shuttle.

She dropped the book. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Wait!" she called out, running after the man, but he quickly disappeared into the elevator. She caught a glimpse of his thick brown beard before the elevator doors closed behind him. Flinging her arms to open the fire doors, Relena hurried to take the stairs, running down three flights to meet him in the lobby. She had no trouble recognizing his discreet walk; head low, hands in his pocket, shoulders hunched. He slipped out the door before she could make it across the E.R. admission hall. She ran after him, bursting out the doors, and stumbling onto a cold rainy day. A heavy shower hammered on the wide entryway canopy.

"Mister Lowensky!" she shouted his name, panting heavily, and he stopped dead in his tracks, a step away from leaving into the rain. His back went rigid, shoulders tensing under his trench coat; he didn't turn to face her. Relena approached carefully, keeping a safe distance as she studied his tense back.

"The name's Lowe," he muttered quietly, tilting his flat cap down while facing away from her. His deep steely voice carried a noticeable Russian accent.

"H-How?" she let out breathlessly, looking up at his broad shoulders with wide, unbelieving eyes. Lowe bowed his head down to stare at the puddle-riddled driveway.

"A _Previe_ tracked me down," he growled out the term in contempt, "Said Seiki needed a donor."

Wufei. He had come through for Heero after all.

"But–– How... How are you even _here?_ " she moaned the question out, having a hard time wrapping her head around what was happening.

He turned to her, slowly; or maybe it was just her mind processing everything in slow motion. Her eyes shifted uneasily across his face; the same strong jawline and stern dark eyes she had seen in his passport photo, only twenty years older and hidden behind a thick, greying, brown beard. Adin Lowensky, alive and well.

"How are you still alive?" she asked, the words whiny and startled even to her own ears.

"Because I never died," Lowe gave a very Heero-like answer. If she hadn't been feeling so disturbed by the whole situation, Relena would have probably smiled in amusement.

"But... X18999..." she tried to clarify, stuttering helplessly under his glowering gaze.

He must have realized she knew more than he had assumed she would, because something in his face softened a little. He sighed, casting his gaze down to the pavement.

"I was injured, yes. But I didn't die." He shrugged his broad shoulders (the gesture reminded her of Heero again), and looked up to meet her eyes. They were a rich hazel color, leaning more towards brown; callous, but pained. Just like Heero's.

"I spent the next eight years in a military prison, first the Alliance, then OZ. I was released when the war ended in '96, and then did my best to disappear... until about two days ago."

Relena nodded slowly, her neck stiff and her face numb as she accepted his explanation. It made sense, both the reason for his disappearance, and his sudden reappearance. Wufei must have located him, following up on what she had told him about the Lowenskies and L3-X18999. If she had learned about Lowe using limited resources, it should have been a real walk in the park for a seasoned Preventer agent to locate a Person of Interest such as an ex-assassin and former P.O.W. Surely, the Agency kept tabs on such potentially dangerous individuals.

"What about––" she choked, unsure which name she should use when referring to his... son. Dear god, she was speaking with Heero's father...

"What about Heero?" she finally continued, trying to mask any blame from her voice as she looked him squarely in the eye. Heero had discarded his old name, and she had to respect his decision. "Did you know?"

"I heard rumors that the CLO had gotten their hands on him, but no," he muttered with a sigh and turned to look out the canopy, studying the tall redbrick hospital building. "I didn't know they put him behind the controls of a Gundam. Agent Chang told me," he heaved a long, burdened sigh, turning to look at her, something akin to an apology in his dark eyes. "I didn't know."

"You should come see him," Relena stated, taking a step closer.

Lowe shook his head firmly. "Bad idea, lady," he murmured and turned to step out of the entrance awning, placing his hands back in his trench coat pockets as he prepared to walk into the pouring rain. "My work here is done."

"Why come back to save his life if you're not willing to be a part of it?" Relena demanded, refusing to let him leave without answering for his crimes. "What's the point?"

Lowe didn't turn around to face her again, but he didn't walk away either. He stared at the ground quietly for a moment, hands in his pockets. "Because I already killed a Heero Yuy once," he whispered, and took a step forward into the rain. "I won't do it again," he added, and walked away towards a nearby parking lot.

Relena watched him make his way towards a small blue sedan. She didn't know what to make of his odd reply. Did he mean Heero Yuy's assassination back in '75? Was he the one who...?

She shook her head strongly, dismissing the thought. It didn't matter now. Only Heero mattered.

She ran after Lowe into the parking lot. Sharp rain sprayed onto her face and her boots splashed through puddles as she hurried to catch him by his car.

"He kept it!" she called after him.

Lowe stopped, a hand on the car door handle. He looked up at her, scowling.

"The violin," she clarified, approaching him slowly while maintaining eye contact, as though approaching a dangerous predator. Past interactions with Heero had taught her how to gentle such wild animals. She stopped next to Lowe on the driver's side. "He kept it," she huffed, looking at him tensely. "He regrets never asking if you're his real father. He regrets never knowing for sure."

For a moment, she was certain she was getting through to him. Lowe didn't move, looking at her with a blank expression on his bearded face. His eyes narrowed, wrinkling at the edges as they regarded her for a tense moment. Finally, he opened the driver's door.

"Well, now he'll know," Lowe grunted and stepped into the car, ready to close the door behind him. Relena flung a hand up to stop him, holding the door open just as he tried to pull it shut. He glared up at her, his narrow hazel eyes menacing and bleak. She was familiar with this ruthless glare; it had never daunted her before, and it wasn't about to do so now.

"Come see him," she insisted, leaning down into the car; "please. He's not even awake yet, so just... just come back inside. Please."

"Listen, lady," Lowe muttered, his deep voice harsh, but also desperate. "I've done that boy nothing but wrong. I just want to do this one thing right, and leave before I cause him any more damage."

"You'll cause more damage if you leave now," she urged him boldly, encouraged that he hadn't closed the door yet, even though his hand was still on the handle. "Heero's been wronged by so many, but you're the only one he's learned to forgive. I know he still cares about you. You're his father. Please don't disappear again, not before you at least _try_ to make things right."

Lowe scoffed. "I _did_ try," he hissed, "and I tried _wrong_. I fucked him up real good, the poor kid. I knew it was wrong, but it was so useful having him around. Took me _two years_ to realize I should give him up. I was going to send him to foster care, but I needed him for _one_ last mission." He shook his head in self- reprimand. "If I hadn't taken him with me to X18999, things would've been different, and he wouldn't be lying at death's door at twenty six. Seiki is better off without me," he said, and closed the door, yanking it forcefully from her grasp.

Relena stepped back when he started the car. She had nothing left to say. He rolled the vehicle out of the parking spot and turned towards the exit and then suddenly stopped, opening his window to look at her again. Relena stepped closer.

"If he makes it, tell him I'm sorry," Lowe mumbled, eyes downcast. "Tell him I hope he'll pass the violin to his own son one day." He tilted his flat cap down to hide his eyes, gesturing a final farewell.

"Dasvidaniya, Miss Darlian."

*          *          *

The bone marrow transplant procedures took close to a week. The doctors kept Heero sedated, wishing to avoid having him wake up from the coma amidst the lengthy process. Pre-transplant tests and preparations took several days. Dr. Grabelsky walked her through it, so she would know what to expect in the next few weeks.

A surgeon implanted a long thin tube into a vein in Heero's chest. The central line had to remain in place for the duration of the treatment, used to infuse the transplanted stem cells, medications, and blood products into Heero's body. Afterwards, they began his Conditioning, prepping his body for the transplant. They put Heero on medications to suppress his immune system, so that his body wouldn't attack the new cells, and began aggressive chemotherapy to destroy the diseased blood-forming cells and marrow. They moved him to a quarantined section of the hospital to reduce risks of infection. Relena had to watch from behind the quarantine curtain, aching to hold his hand, but unable to come close.

The medical staff called Day 91 _"Zero Day"_ – transplant day. The procedure itself was similar to a blood transfusion over the course of a few days. Dr. Grabelsky said that the success rate was usually around 65%, and that it was primarily dependent on how closely the donor and recipient matched genetically. Relena was very optimistic about the results, since Heero had received the SCT from his father (not that she was supposed to know that...).

They waited for the new stem cells to multiply and begin to make new healthy blood cells; a process called "engraftment", as Shane had explained to her, which could take up to a few weeks. Heero continued to receive periodic transfusions of red blood cells and platelets until his bone marrow began producing enough of those cells on its own. Nurse Shane monitored his engraftment closely, and Relena paced Heero's small room while waiting for the daily results. It felt as though she was living from one blood count test to the next; everything else went past her in a blur.

Two weeks after Zero Day, Shane came running into Heero's room, grinning and waving the blood count results proudly. Relena stood up, hesitant, and looked over the results. She had to see it with her own eyes; otherwise, she would never believe it. The last four months had been an endless rollercoaster ride, constantly alternating between bad news and good news. Her eyes skimmed over the printout – she had become somewhat of an expert at deciphering the medical jargon.

"His white blood cell count has increased," she noted, a smile creeping up the corners of her mouth.

Shane nodded, grinning. "Those are usually the first cells to engraft," she confirmed. "Once his red blood cells and platelets follow suit, he'll be well on his way to recovery."

Relena looked up from the paper, and allowed the smile to fully form on her otherwise weary features. Finally, a real sign of improvement.

*          *          *

Her mother took her out to dinner that night, at their regular seaside Southampton café. They finally had a reason to celebrate, although Relena just stared at her plate of colorful seafood risotto, shoving a piece of shrimp back and forth with her fork.

Funny, but all she could think about was that delicious Middle Eastern dish Heero had cooked for her back in Queens. Her nostrils burned, aching for the piquant scent of cumin, chili peppers, and fresh tomatoes. He cooked it so well. She missed the sight of him working in her kitchen while she sat by the table with a pile of books, glimpsing his sturdy back every now and then.

As much as she yearned to savor those moments of domestic bliss, Relena could not deny how the tide would often turn. What had begun as a pleasant evening would frequently spiral down to a nasty fight over trivialities such as who closes up the apartment door and windows before bed, and who gets to slip under the covers without taking care of a thing.

What kind of a masochist would she have to be to yearn for those taxing months spent second-guessing herself, constantly walking on eggshells and trying to please? Who in their right mind would ever miss being cut to the bone by stinging words thrown carelessly back and forth? What was there to miss about the way they'd often snap at each other, resent each other, fail to contain the other?

**Because she's driving me NUTS and I don't understand ANY of this!**

Heero had been frustrated with it too. Nothing ever came naturally for them. They had to struggle to make it work. Sex, talking... nothing ever came easy. Even their twenty-second hug was something she herself had orchestrated. It was all an act, awkward and mechanical. Love refused to surrender quietly. They had to fight for it, drag it kicking and screaming, shove it forcefully into a neat little mold that could barely contain it, punching it in until it caved, and then still...

**Because something is always missing.**

Their love refused to fit the box.

"Stop dat spelen met je voedsel, Relena," _(Stop playing with your food)_ her mother rebuked. "It's unsightly."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, setting her fork down, and leaned back into her chair. "I guess I'm not really hungry."

"You've barely touched your food," her mother commented, leaning forward to study her face. "Schatje, what's wrong?"

Relena shrugged. "I don't know..." she exhaled the words in a tired voice, glancing up at her mother. "I should be happy, right?" she moaned out the question, and let out a tense chuckle. "I'm going to get him back. I should be happy now..." she lowered her gaze to her untouched meal, and heaved another sigh. "But, somehow, it just feels like I'm headed into battle again..."

Her mother nodded, placing her utensils down as well. She wiped her mouth gracefully with a napkin and reached for her glass of red wine. Taking a small sip, she fixed her eyes on the large window overlooking a dark beach.

"Things didn't always go smoothly between your father and me," she let out quietly, watching moonlit waves ripple over a black ocean. "He was away a lot, and I was alone with you. At some point, I began dreading his return." She turned to offer Relena a small smile, her lips barely rising under a heavy load. "It was much easier having him away, than dealing with the tension of having him home."

Relena bowed her head to stare at her food. She tried to recall if she had ever heard her parents fight over anything, but nothing came to mind. They seemed so happy together...

Her mother had suffered in private, just like Heero had.

Relena's fists clenched under the table, furious at her own ignorance.

"I loved your father," her mother continued, "But there were times when I preferred doing so from afar."

Her plate of seafood blurred as she continued staring at it, her fists clenched under the table. She had spent the last few months holding onto a waning memory of Heero, loving him from afar. Their love had blurred. There was no telling whether she only longed for the idea of him, or for the person he was in actuality. Heero might open his eyes any day now, and she feared that day almost as much as losing him.

"He can be so difficult sometimes..." Relena let out with a sigh, closing her stinging eyes. "But I don't think I'm much better." Raising her head up, she opened her eyes to face her mother again. "Is this love?"

Her mother reached for her red wine, taking a small sip.

"Love is about sharing," she then said, unfortunately ten years too late to give this speech, but Relena listened intently nonetheless. "It doesn't matter if it's a parent's love to their child, or a woman's love to her man. Sharing yourself, the good, and the bad, that's what love is. That's why his father came back for him. That's why you've been fighting for him all this time. That's why Heero is fighting to live, right now. He knows what he's fighting for, and why."

Relena didn't know what to say, so she looked down at the table, studying her plate of seafood.

"I went down three sizes after your father died," her mother recalled with a distant voice, holding her wine glass while gazing out the window. "I had to change my entire wardrobe," she smiled wistfully into her wine. "He would have laughed at that," she added, and took another small sip.

Relena huffed a little chuckle. "Yes," she agreed. "He definitely would have." She picked up her fork. "It must have been hard," she mumbled, spearing a piece of lump-crab. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, mother." She looked up from her plate, bashful. "It was a very selfish thing to do."

"You were fifteen," her mother reminded her, smoothing down the wrinkles on her navy-blue skirt. "You were supposed to be selfish. Besides," she added, "You had your own battles to fight. And you chose to fight them alongside Heero." This time, her smile seemed genuine, for small wrinkles formed in the corners of her eyes. "Maybe that's where you were meant to be."

Relena nodded stiffly, lowering her gaze back to her plate. "Maybe," she murmured, leaning her cheek against one hand. She impaled four green peas, piercing them one by one.

A waiter stepped out of the kitchen with a tray full of seafood and a couple of beers. He served the dishes to a family of four sitting at a nearby table: mother, father, and two siblings. A picture of normalcy. Relena watched the waiter place the plates and two beer mugs on the table.

"I was... ashamed," Relena murmured, staring at the happy family with an absent gaze, her head resting against her open hand. "Angry with myself. Angry that I wasn't able to save father."

She turned back to her mother, and straightened back up, lowering her hand to her lap under the table. "I guess... I try to save Heero instead."

Her mother placed her wine back on the table, turning to face Relena.

"I was always prepared for the worst," she said, her features firming in subtle anger. "That is the price we pay for loving these brave men."

Relena looked away. The waiter had just disappeared into the back, but a young waitress stepped out a moment later, carrying a bottle of red wine. She served it to a young couple sitting by the seaside window, pouring each of them a glass.

"I once told Heero I was fine with death, as long as I had answers, but..."

The young couple laughed, making a toast, enjoying their evening.

Relena turned back to her mother, her features hardening.

"I know all that I need to know, but it's not enough," she spoke firmly. "I need to share it with him. All of it. Everything. It's not worth knowing if I'm alone. I'd rather deal with the tension, than the loneliness."

Her mother nodded. She too observed the happy young couple for a while.

"Ignorance is the opposite of bliss," she offered, hiding behind her glass. "I spent years hiding the truth from you," she let out with a sigh, "I thought you'd be better off not knowing, but I was only denying you of my love. When your father died, I had to tell you, but it was already too late." Setting her wine back down, she turned to Relena, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You already knew. You were all grown up, and I had missed my chance to be there for you."

Her mother reached her hand across the table, and Relena's eyes fell on her pristine white fingers and immaculate manicure. She had always adored her mother's delicate hands.

Relena placed her own hand over the table. It seemed small and callous in comparison, chipped fingernails, dry skin peeling from countless uses of the hospital's sanitizing gel.

Her mother gripped her hand tightly. Relena looked up to meet her eyes, trying to smile. Her mother's lipstick-brushed lips also curled into a thin smile.

A waiter walked by their table on his way to the kitchen.

Relena withdrew her hand, turning to face the kitchen door. She bit down on her lower lip, watching the young man disappear into the back.

Her mother picked up her wine again, sipping quietly while gazing out the window.

Inhaling deeply, Relena released the air out in a long sigh, and reached for her fork. She scooped up a small portion of risotto. Sending her mother an awkward smile, she finally began eating her dinner.

*          *          *

Day 18, following Zero Day, was December 23rd, AC 206. The day before Christmas, roughly four months since their trip on Labor Day. It was late in the evening. Relena sat by Heero's bed, a book laid open in her lap, her phone playing soft violin music in the background. She had dozed off in her chair, when her phone chimed to signal an incoming message and she jolted awake with a loud snort. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and ran a hand through her messy bangs, glancing at Heero. No change.

She reached for her phone and stopped the music. It was about time she went home anyway. She checked the message; it was from her mother. She wanted to know if she would be home for Christmas; home being their beach house in Montauk. Her mother had gotten a tree and everything, even though Relena wasn't really in the festive spirit this year. In fact, she had come to resent Christmas a long time ago. It brought back too many bad memories, which was why her mother tried to distract her by celebrating a lavish one every year. Last year, they went skiing in Switzerland with her aunt Annette and her entire family. This year, it was just the two of them, in a lonely old house by the sea.

 _'I'll be there,'_ she texted her mother back. Relena couldn't see the harm of staying away from the hospital for one lousy day. So many days had passed already, and Heero wasn't going anywhere.

Sighing, she got up to pack her things. Her handbag rested on the nightstand. She placed her book inside and reached to unplug the charger, coiling the cord around it, before placing it in her bag. She put her phone in next, turning to address Heero one last time before leaving.

"I guess I'll see you after Chris—"

She froze, her hand still inside the bag.

Heero's blue eyes looked up at her. Not so much the glazed-over stares she had encountered so far, but a real sign of recognition. His brows furrowed as he studied her.

Relena turned to him, pulling her hand out of the bag. Heero's eyes darted towards it. He tensed, chest swelling under the blanket.

She paused. Razor-sharp blue eyes scrutinized her handbag, narrowed, watching. Slowly, she retrieved her hand, to show him she was only holding her phone, turning the device towards him. Raising both hands to put her phone where he could see it, she mimicked surrender.

Cold eyes regarded her, still vigilant. He hadn't moved yet, his chest tense under the blanket.

Keeping both her arms up in front of her, Relena settled down into the chair, maintaining eye contact.

Heero's eyes tracked her silently. She set the phone down in her lap, leaving it there, harmless. He watched. She lowered her hands, clasping them over her thighs. Inoffensive.

She counted five heartbeats, never tearing her gaze away from him, and moved again, turning in her chair to face him fully.

Heero's fingers twitched readily on the bed.

Relena placed the palms of her hands over his bare forearm. His muscles flexed under her touch. His eyes shifted rapidly left and right, searching for a way out. She didn't move, letting his skin soak her warmth, waiting for reality to sink in.

When Heero shot her a tense glance, their eyes meeting, she offered him a little smile, keeping it subtle. At this, his arm relaxed under her touch, going limp. He exhaled, his chest falling as he released the air out in a long, weary, breath. She no longer registered as a threat.

A wide goofy smile spread on her lips.

"Hey!" Relena laughed the word out in relief, standing up to lean over him. "Hey... _ohmygod_... _Hey_..." The loving greeting rushed out of her mouth as she stroked his hair, beaming.

Heero blinked, sluggish, eyelids fluttering up and down. His eyes shifted to look up at her. Not just the dull, half-aware stare from the previous weeks, nor was it a wary glare. This time, he was really in there, his gaze softening as he studied her face.

"—h— hey..." he croaked, his warm breath tickling her nose. It smelled so bad, but she was too overwhelmed with joy to care. "Is... this... now...?" he asked in a feeble voice, his eyes probing her face uneasily.

Relena frowned, pulling away a little. "Now?" she echoed and studied his face closely, praying this wasn't an indication of brain damage.

Heero dipped his chin, just a tiny nod, and licked his chapped lips. "I––" he whispered, his frail voice breaking "––the... the music..."

She nodded repeatedly, relieved. "The violin," she confirmed, "You heard it."

He closed his eyes, nodding again; just a slight gesture of his eyelids. "It was like... lying in bed... listening... for a long time..." He lifted his tired eyes to look at her in question. "Ho–– How... long...?"

"A hundred and nine days," she whispered, leaning over him, and squeezed his hand tightly. "A hundred and nine _long_ days..."

His blue eyes widened, dazed. Relena gave a tense giggle.

"Yeah... You were asleep for a very long time," she let out, curling a lock of his unruly bangs around her finger. "I didn't know you were _that_ tired," she joked, but her voice came out strained.

Heero didn't seem to process her humor.

"Wha... Why...?" he grimaced, trying to move, but failed. He slumped back into the mattress and looked up at her, waiting for an answer.

"You were very sick," she told him, brushing the soft hairs away from his eyes. His eyelids fluttered shut again, relishing in her touch.

"But now you're better," she added, stroking his hair.

Heero blinked, puzzled. He was clearly struggling to stay awake.

"It's a long story," she whispered, and leaned down to bestow a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Some other time."

Heero nodded, and drifted back to sleep.

*          *          *

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

"One more day and we would have had us a Christmas miracle!" Nurse Shane laughed as she escorted Relena to Heero's new room. Relena smiled weakly in response, too tired to come up with a witty reply. She had tossed and turned all night.

Traffic on Christmas Eve was just as bad as any other holiday, if not worse. It had taken her over two hours to get from Montauk to Southampton. Christmas may be the _"most wonderful time of the year"_ , but that was hardly the case for drivers. Traffic, accidents, and poor driving conditions awaited hapless highway-drivers traveling across the South Fork of Long Island. Relena felt she never should have left the hospital in the first place, but she wanted to look like a person again when he opened his eyes today.

"He was awake this morning," Shane told her as they approached Hematology. "I introduced myself, but..." – she shrugged her shoulders helplessly – "Not a very talkative fella, your guy."

Relena's lips curled slightly. "No, he's not."

"Asked about you, though. I told him you're probably stuck in traffic and he kinda snorted... Guess he found it funny for some reason."

This time, Relena had a hard time wiping the smile off her face. She could see why he would find that amusing. Heero had one twisted sense of humor.

They reached their destination, a small private room with pale yellow walls and a large window overlooking a snowy garden. The door was open and Dr. Grabelsky already stood inside. Heero lay propped against the bed at a comfortable angle, looking up at his doctor. They were talking, but Relena couldn't quite catch what they were saying. Shane waved a silent goodbye and went back to her duties down in the ICU. Relena stood in the doorway, and placed one hand on the doorframe, unable to step through the threshold just yet. After so much time spent in anxious waiting, it felt so unreal coming into the room and seeing him awake.

"Ah, Relena," Dr. Grabelsky noticed her standing in the doorway and gestured her to come in, a warm smile on his wrinkled face.

Heero, too, turned to the door, their eyes meeting from across the room. She studied his pale features. The familiar stoicism was back in its place; the hard look in his eyes, his eerie silence as he regarded her... Relena recoiled half a step, her hand slipping off the doorframe.

Having those calculated blue eyes on her again felt about as awkward and disconcerting as when she had first met him.

 _'Did you see?'_ he had rasped in an anxious whisper, hiding his eyes.

She had seen all there was to see behind his walls. Standing before them again, the cold wind hitting her face... it didn't feel right. That guarded look in his eyes spoke of a distance, while she had already crossed that bridge, aware of every little detail there was to know about him – down to the exact number of engrafted blood cells in his bloodstream.

"I was just about to ask Heero a few questions," Dr. Grabelsky explained. "Making sure he's all in there," he added jokingly, tapping on his head with one finger.

Relena smiled numbly, and Heero only scowled.

"Are you up to it?" Grabelsky turned to ask him, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his lab coat pocket. "It's vital we establish if there are any side effects."

Heero looked at her. She returned his gaze; her face frozen solid. Why was this so difficult?

Breaking eye contact, Heero turned to his doctor, nodding in consent to the questioning.

"Good," Grabelsky approved, clicking on his pen. "How are you feeling, overall?"

Heero's eyes shifted sideways to glance at her briefly, before staring down at the bed, where his slender white hands rested limply against his blanket-covered lap. Was he reluctant to speak in front of her?

"...tired," he murmured. "Weak."

Dr. Grabelsky nodded solemnly, taking notes. "Fatigue is very common," he said, looking up at Heero again. "Any joint or muscle pain? Vision problems? Dry mouth? A rash?"

Heero shook his head.

"How about headaches? Nausea?"

He nodded, still looking down.

"On the scale of one to five, with five being the worst, how bad?"

"Five."

Relena winced internally. _One can never tell by looking at him_ , she mused. He seemed so collected, suffering in silence as usual.

"Vomiting?" The doctor asked, still jotting things down. Heero nodded a small _'yes'_.

"All morning," he added.

Grabelsky pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "That's also common. I'll give you something for the nausea. Let me know if anything else starts bothering you, okay?"

Heero looked up at the doctor, and nodded a silent affirmative.

"How about breathing?" Grabelsky continued. "Would you say effortless, difficult, or painful?"

Relena realized she was holding her breath, and exhaled lengthily. At long last, she mustered the strength to step into the room, and stopped a few feet from the bed.

Heero glanced at her again, before turning to Grabelsky at the other side of his bed.

"Effortless," he said in a steady monotone, "As long as I don't move around too much."

The doctor took note of it in his pad. "Chest pains? Other than the intubation wounds, of course."

Relena lowered her gaze to the floor. She hated thinking back on the months he had spent connected to tubes and wires tunneling into his flesh. She grimaced, recalling the clinical horror of the catheterization tubes.

"None," Heero replied flatly.

Grabelsky nodded. "Have you noticed any hair loss?

 Heero frowned. "No."

"You've undergone aggressive chemotherapy," the doctor informed him. "We have drugs to counter hair loss, but you may notice a little thinning in the next two to four weeks. That too shall pass."

He nodded.

Grabelsky looked up from his notepad. "Do you know the date?" he asked, digging his pen into the notepad until it left a piercing mark.

Heero turned to look out the window; it was a snowy day and the trees were bare. "Winter two-oh-six?" he ventured a guess.

"Close enough," the doctor smiled; he probably just wanted to know the year. "And the square root of nine?"

"Three," Heero replied automatically, still looking out the window. Relena smiled. Heero has always been better with numbers than with people.

"Fifty-two times seven?" Grabelsky asked with a cunning smile, and Heero immediately replied "Three-hundred sixty-four."

The doctor gaped at him, shocked, and Relena chuckled to herself.

"Can you tell me your name?" the doctor then asked, and Heero turned to scowl at him, no doubt because the doctor had called him by his name just a few minutes ago. He thought the question was stupid.

"Your full name," Grabelsky clarified with a smile, and when Heero just kept glaring, he added a light-hearted "Humor me."

Heero scoffed, shaking his head.

Standing by his bed, Relena coiled like a spring, her shoulders tensing visibly under her sweater. She wondered which name he would give. Who was this person waking up from a hundred-day-long coma?

For four months, he had existed solely in her head. An idea, a memory... a dream she had morphed into a comforting image. She wasn't ready to let go of it just yet and face reality.

"I go by Heero Yuy," he finally said in a deadpan manner. He looked up at her, their eyes meeting over the bed. "But my real name is Seiki Clark," he refined his answer, giving a definite reply that left no room for doubt. He had said it for her. She smiled at him, relieved.

"How old are you, Heero?" Grabelsky asked.

"Twenty-six," he said, eyes focused solely on her. It was unnerving.

"And who's President?"

"Some idiot," he grunted, still looking at her. Relena chuckled again, and his lips twisted into a charming little smirk.

He turned to Grabelsky. "Adams in the US, Morel for the ESUN, Vasiliev for the Colonies..."

"All right," Grabelsky cut in, raising his pen up to stop Heero. "I get it," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement. Relena stifled her own smirk. Heero could be such a smartass...

"And where are you from, Heero?" Grabelsky asked.

Heero was still facing her, a mischievous little smile on his pale lips. He seemed oddly relaxed now; the tension had left his shoulders.

"Second star to the right..." he muttered playfully, "And straight on 'till morning."

Relena let out a quiet snicker, shaking her head at their private little joke. Her chest felt lighter now; she could breathe more easily. Heero was still Heero, not just a concept she had created in her mind during his long absence. He wasn't all make-believe and pixie dust. The notion of him was grounded in reality, taking shape and form before her very eyes.

Grabelsky, however, didn't seem to get it. He frowned, concerned.

"Come again?" he asked, gripping his pen tight against the notepad.

Heero turned to him, that invisible ghost-of-a-smile still present.

"The L1 Cluster," he explained, "But I live in New York now."

The doctor nodded in approval, writing something down. "Do you work?"

"Preventer. Cyber Intelligence. NYC branch," Heero recited routinely. "Formerly a pilot for the CLO," he then added, eyes hardening, as if remembering something painful; "There's nothing wrong with my mind. I remember my life."

"Just making sure," Grabelsky apologized, "You were under for a very long time."

Relena lowered her gaze to the floor. When she glanced up, she caught Heero's inspecting side-glance, before he turned to his doctor, awaiting further questions.

"And can you tell me who this young lady is?" Dr. Grabelsky asked, gesturing at Relena with his head.

Heero turned to her, stiffly. Her hands balled into fists, clasped in front of her, fingers clenched around her thumbs. She didn't know why, but she was nervous.

"My girlfriend," Heero finally said, avoiding her eyes as the words left his mouth, clearly uncomfortable, but then he looked up at her again, as he added in a flat monotone: "Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

Relena laughed out loud, relieved. Her hands relaxed, fists unclenching. Heero's lips curved upwards in a subtle gesture.

"Relena Darlian," he corrected his answer for Grabelsky's sake, "formerly Peacecraft. She dreams about flying, and she believes in fairies."

Relena ran a hand through her hair, pushing back the long locks framing her face, smiling coyly.

Grabelsky cleared his throat to break the awkward moment. He turned to Heero.

"I understand Doctor Jenkins has filled you in a little, about what happened?"

Heero tore his eyes away from her, to face Grabelsky. He nodded curtly. "MS Syndrome."

"That's right," the doctor confirmed, glancing up at Relena. They had agreed to keep the anonymous bone marrow donation a secret, letting Heero assume it had been received from a public registry.

"Do you have any questions?" Grabelsky asked.

"Yes," Heero said, his tone serious, eyes intense. "When can I get out of here?"

Grabelsky laughed, looking across the bed at Relena. "You didn't tell me he was this charming."

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "But he means well."

On the bed, Heero scoffed. They were talking about him as though he wasn't even in the room. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

"We need to keep you under observation for a while longer, to ensure against complications," Grabelsky explained. "Recovery can take up to three months. That being said, the sooner you're out of here, the better. The treatment has compromised your immune system, and you're far more susceptible to infections in a hospital. I hope to send you home sooner than later."

Heero nodded in appreciation.

Dr. Grabelsky placed his hand on Heero's shoulder. "This young lady hasn't left your side these past few months," he said, looking fondly at Relena. "You're one lucky guy." With a fatherly smile, he left the room.

Heero turned to her stiffly, his mouth tight, his breath shallow.

Relena stared back, mirroring his rigid posture. An awkward silence hung in the air.

"Are you nauseous?" she finally asked, just to say something. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head.

"Maybe some water...?" she mumbled and went over to the sink. He reached his hand up to stop her.

"Relena," he let out, holding her by the wrist.

She closed her eyes, her hand outstretched towards him, half-facing away from him. His voice... that soft tone he used only when addressing her... it was so strange hearing it again. She had missed it dearly, that careful, husky, tone.

Heero tugged her arm gently, and she turned to face him, lifting her faltering gaze to meet his eyes.

They looked at each other mutely. She felt like she should say something, but she didn't know what.

Heero nudged her arm towards him again, signaling that it was okay to come close. She climbed on the bed, carefully straddling his boney hips.

He kept his head down, his unruly bangs dangling low to hide his eyes. Leaning over him, Relena cupped his cheeks gently in her hands, lifting his head up to face her. His jaw clenched under her touch, his eyes shifting restlessly behind untrimmed bangs. She brushed his hair aside, and his face twitched with unease, but he didn't pull away, letting her look.

A new patch of stray hairs had grown on the bridge of his nose. The dry skin under his nostrils was scuffed and flaking, after months of being fed through a nasogastric tube. His chapped lips were similarly torn and peeling, red sores at the edges of his mouth, where his lips had been forced open by the ECMO intubation. The MDS had impaired his natural ability to regenerate tissue and control bleeding. He had bruised easily, his arms riddled with bluish contusions. The wounds were only now starting to heal.

Light stubble covered his hollow cheeks and slender jawline. He probably wouldn't let her shave him now that he was awake. It was strange, but she mourned the loss of intimacy, the liberty to tend to his humanity in a way he had never permitted before.

Not a word passed between them, as he reached a hand up to her face, stopping an inch before touching her cheek. Pulling away, he paused again, thinking twice, then placed the tips of his slender fingers against her cheek, letting her tears run over them. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

Heero traced his finger along her wet eyelashes. She blinked the rest of the tears away, opening her eyes to find a curious look on his face. She allowed this intimate scrutiny, as he had often let her gaze at his face for minutes at a time. When his eyes fell on her lips, she smiled a little.

Heero lowered his hand back to the bed, letting it dangle at his side. He bowed his head, eyes downcast.

"Heero?" she whispered worriedly, but he said nothing.

Sitting hunched forward, he seemed painfully small. Less like himself, and more like that six-year-old boy putting on a brave face in his fake passport photo. He was pulling back into that bashful child again, the one with that stern look that seemed forced, and bewildered eyes, still trying to act tough. A lost boy.

Relena placed two fingers under his chin, nudging his head up gently. Heero lifted his eyes to meet hers, gaze wandering sideways with unease.

"Boy, why are you crying?"

He shrugged. "I'm not," he whispered, avoiding her eyes even while her fingers still supported his chin up to face her.

Relena recognized this tactic. This was Heero, pulling back into his shell. Experience had taught him that this was when he would be left to his own devices, kicked while he was already down. This was him retreating, because it was the only viable option in his current status. The only way he could brace himself for the blow was to fall back behind the walls.

"Heero," she whispered, her eyes searching his face for contact, but he shifted his gaze to the window to their side.

Relena nudged his chin towards her again. Reluctantly, he turned back to face her, his features tense as though awaiting a slap across the cheek. She held his gaze for a moment before speaking.

"I'm not going anywhere," she told him, soft yet firm.

He nodded, moving his head away. Something about the looseness of the gesture and the tightness around his lips suggested that he didn't quite believe her. He had been burned before, and the scarring still hurt.

Aching to comfort him, she gathered his scrawny torso in her arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. A long-overdue twenty-second hug. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He smelled like antiseptic and stingy bleach wafting from the bedding.

"I'm not going anywhere," she repeated, the words whispered into his slender neck.

His upper body stiffened in her arms, but then gradually relaxed. She felt him shift his arms towards her, but then he stopped, leaving them hanging in the air around her. She burrowed closer, nestling her nose in the hollow of his neck again, holding him tighter. She closed her eyes, mentally counting to twenty.

_One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight..._

Lean arms moved again, wrapping around her gingerly. Huddling forward, he rested his cheek on her shoulder, closing his eyes. His warm breath tickled her throat as he exhaled.

_Twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three... twenty-four..._

Heero's arms tightened around her.

"I know," he whispered, his throat moving against her nose. "Me neither."

She smiled, curling lips brushing his skin.

Finally, a proper _'I love you'_.

*          *          *

Still requiring close medical care, Heero had to remain near the hospital for several weeks. The first year was critically important, because this was when SCT complications were most likely to occur. The treatment had left him vulnerable to infections and other transplant-associated medical complications. Grabelsky agreed to discharge him, but he still wanted to see Heero on a weekly basis.

Relena took him back to her mother's beach house. Since Heero's immune system was very weak, she felt that it would be better to keep him in the Hamptons instead of going back to New York. The fresh ocean air would do him good, or, at the very least, it wouldn't be as risky as NYC's filth and pollution.

She had cleaned the bedroom so it was spotless, disinfecting everything, including the bed sheets. She had done the same for his apartment back in New York, just in case he insisted on going back home, and while there, she had returned his belongings to their rightful place, even replacing the emptied whiskey bottle with the exact same brand. She would never speak of it, unless he found out she had added her own confession to his notes and asked her about it one day. She'd make sure Heero won't have to reach for the notepad ever  again.

Fortunately, Heero offered no resistance when she told him they were going back to Montauk. He sat quietly in the passenger seat, gazing at the view passing in a blur out his window as she drove him. He only turned to look out the windshield if she accelerated unexpectedly, usually to overpass some slowpoke creeping along the NY-27. He'd shift his eyes towards her then, no doubt taken aback by her reckless driving. Four months of traveling back and forth across Montauk Highway would do that to a person, she supposed. Oddly enough, Heero didn't comment about it, just turned back to watch the passenger side window after he'd determined she wasn't about to kill them both. She was the one at the wheel now.

His unquestioning compliance and eerie meekness were unnerving, but she knew he would be back to his stubborn self soon enough, once he regained some strength.

Not surprisingly, traffic was rather gracious on the morning of New Year's Eve. They arrived at Montauk within the hour. Relena parked the car in front of the house and turned to Heero. He was still looking out his window, staring at the stormy beach below. Last he had been here, it had been a hot summer day. In winter, the beach had a more windswept, barren grandeur; grey and gloomy. She wondered if he liked it better this way.

She helped him out of the car, holding the door open for him and reached out her hand to help him up. He carried himself slowly, heavily, leaning against her as they made their way up to the house. Her mother waited on the front porch, hands clasped in front of her and the cold wind tousling her hair. They stood before her, their bodies interlocked; Relena's arm around Heero's waist, and his arm draped over her shoulder. Her mother looked at Heero. He looked back, panting quietly through gaping lips. Her mother smiled at him, just a tiny gesture, but fond nonetheless. He nodded at her, a subtle dip of his chin, accepting her unspoken welcome.

They helped him up the stairs, supporting him by his arms from both sides as they made the torturous climb to the second floor. It was hard for him, and they had to stop every couple of steps so he could rest. Relena tried to mask her concern, but she supposed it still showed on her face. Breathing heavily through his nose, Heero looked at her with a tight-lipped expression, ashamed. She smiled at him softly, trying to offer some encouragement. The frailty bothered him, she knew, but he couldn't start PT yet. He had to get stronger first.

Relena helped Heero to the bed while her mother went to open the floor-to-ceiling curtains covering the balcony doors, revealing a magnificent view of raging waves under a grey sky.

Heero collapsed onto the bed, lying on his back with his legs thrown over the edge of the mattress, his breath ragged.

Relena turned to her mother with a thankful smile. Her mother returned the small gesture and left the room, closing the door behind her. She turned back to face the bed, her gaze falling on his legs dangling to the floor. He had lost so much weight; his jeans were baggy around his thighs.

Heero had draped an arm across his eyes, utterly beat. Her gaze was drawn to the narrow sliver of pale skin where his shirt had ridden up a little to reveal his lower abdomen. He had bruises there too, traces of an orderly's tight grip from when Heero had been moved to avoid bedsores.

Relena took a seat next to him on the edge of the bed.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

Heero nodded under the shelter of his arm. "I have to pee," he rasped, irritated, "I can't get up..." He snorted at his own helplessness. Relena smiled in sympathy. He must have been holding it since Southampton.

"Come on," she said, standing up. Heero drew his arm away from his eyes. She reached her hands towards him to help him sit.

Groaning, he pulled himself to a sitting position and let go of her hand. She took a step back, giving him some space.

Heero didn't rise to his feet. He remained seated on the edge of the bed, leaning on his slender thighs. Something was bothering him, she could tell. The same thing that has been bothering him since he awoke at the hospital. He seemed like that bashful child again, small and full of doubt. It hurt her to see him like this. She wanted nothing more than to say something to him, but she still didn't know what.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at his feet.

"What for?" she asked carefully, standing over him.

"For this," his voice was sullen as he gestured down at himself. "I know this isn't how you pictured it. Being with me."

She winced. "Heero, no. I..."

"It's okay," he sighed, "This isn't how I had imagined it either."

Somewhat offended that he was comparing her to his ex, Relena shook her head weakly, but didn't say anything. After all, she wasn't supposed to know.

"You said you were bored," Heero explained, staring at the floor. It didn't sound like an accusation. "I tried, with the PSC, but..." he shook his head, exhaling tiredly. "I thought maybe with you, things would go back to the way they were. For a moment, it even felt like they did, but...I can't. I can't live up to that anymore. First my leg, then my heart, then the drinking... and now this MDS. It's eating away at me."

"Do you still think about drinking?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't get another chance.

"All the time."

"Even now?" she asked numbly. "Even when you're so sick?"

"All the time."

She nodded, looking at her shoes.

Heero raised his hands in front of him. "You'd think I'd be better than this," he said, staring at the palms of his hands, "but I'm not."

"It's okay," she assured, taking a seat next to him. "You don't have to be."

"All the things I've done under that name... they came with a price." He heaved a long sigh, slumping forward to lean his elbows on his knees. " _Heero Yuy_ ," he scoffed out the name, "Pilot _Zero-One_. I can't live up to him anymore. I... I just... I _can't_." He buried his face in both hands, sitting hunched over his knees. "I can't be this person anymore," he muffled into the palms of his hands. "I can't keep doing this. I can't... I can't keep standing still. I..."

Pausing, he lifted his face up from behind his hands, and turned to her, his expression contorting wretchedly.

"I want to be dismissed," he whispered, despaired.

Relena lowered herself to the floor to kneel in front of him. She reached up to caress his cheek gently, tucking untrimmed locks of hair behind his ear.

"If you can't stand it anymore, then just... don't. It's okay to fall," she assured him. "If being Heero is too much, then this can be your chance to start anew. Just... put to rest this person you can no longer be. Pretend that Heero Yuy's life ended when your heart stopped, and start over as someone else."

"I can't," he pulled away, searching for the words.

"Sometimes... Sometimes it feels like Heero Yuy was just a dream, or a nightmare... I'm still not sure which." He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the nape of his neck. Definitely a nervous gesture. She almost smiled at the confirmation.

He turned to the balcony doors, where heavy rain clouds drifted over a turbulent ocean. "It's like it wasn't even me," he said, voice pained.

Seated on the floor, Relena listened closely.

"But it was," he added, his fists clenching. "I can't wash my hands of it. I can't pretend like it never happened. I... I killed so many. _Hundreds_ ," he emphasized, as if she had forgotten. She hadn't; she just never let it define who Heero was to her.

"I can't ignore that. I should suffer for what I've done. I... I _do_ suffer for it." He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time in minutes. "I would like nothing more than to go back to being Seiki, but I can't. I have to be Heero. I have to own up to that."

She nodded her head in understanding. She didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. She just wanted him to be happy...

"Heero..."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "See? What does it even _mean?" h_ e exclaimed, waving his hands dismissively. "I don't know. _You_ don't even know," he accused, eyes hard. "You say it like it holds some kind of meaning, like it's supposed to offer comfort... but it doesn't. It doesn't mean anything."

"It does to me," she objected. "It means you."

"Yeah..." he scoffed, flexing his fists in front of him. " _Who…?_ "

"It's you," she maintained, reaching for his hands. "Just... just you," she repeated, holding his hands tightly while looking up into his eyes. "It's just you, name regardless. You're you, and I love you."

She stood up without giving him a chance to object and pulled him up by his arms. "Now come on," she urged, smiling, "Before you wet my bed."

Heero lifted his head to face her, looking so small sitting hunched over the edge of the mattress. He seemed thankful. Letting out a quiet groan, he hauled himself up, and she helped him to his feet, offering her shoulder for support as he shuffled to the bathroom. He entered alone, and she waited by the door.

She had made so many wrong assumptions about him. So many. Heero wasn't the indifferent bastard for whom she had often mistaken him. He was trying, so hard; struggling to live up to an image he could no longer uphold. Not just for her sake, not just to be the person he thought she wanted him to be, but because he thought it was his penance. The dissonance between who he was, and the person he had been forced to become, was eating away at him.

She had done him such a terrible wrong by forcing him to keep up the façade. He had taken her out into the Barrens, trying to resurrect what he had lost, while he would have just liked to spend another quiet evening in her Queens apartment. He had put up that brave face again, when all he really wanted was to be himself. She hadn't let him. She had forced him to keep standing; just like his superiors back in the CLO.

Tears of shame pricked her eyes. She blinked them away. She didn't want him to mistake her remorse for pity. He didn't need her feeling sorry for him. He needed her to be strong, stronger than him. He had given her both hope and the strength to live during man's most solemn hour. She wanted to do the same for him now. She'd be his crutch from now on.

Heero stepped out of the bathroom, stopping in the doorway to gaze at her. She could tell he had noticed her misty eyes, but he didn't say anything. He walked slowly to the bed, wobbling, and she hurried to lift the covers so he could finally lie down. She piled a few pillows against the headboard so he could lie comfortably, and another large pillow on which to rest his legs, for he always slept with a pillow under the back of his knees. He seemed relieved to see the pillow, and she felt proud demonstrating how well she knew his little habits, his reasons for being the way he was.

Heero lay down, throwing her a grateful look as he slumped against the headboard. He flung his legs up, groaning as he rested them over the pillow. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Relena reached to take his shoes off. He said nothing as she unbuttoned his loose-fitting jeans and slid them down his legs, exposing the prosthesis. However, when she moved to take it off, he motioned her to stop.

She looked up, meeting his hesitation. "It's okay," she whispered, and removed the prosthesis slowly. He relented, and leaned his head back against the headboard, focused on nothing more than the ceiling while she worked to ease off his prosthetic leg. She studied his residual leg at length. He had never allowed it before, but now he bore it; embarrassed, but silent.

The skin was paler than the rest of his leg, worn and thin, but smooth and clean, without any scarring. He obviously took proper care of it.

"People expect me to change," Heero said, gazing at the ceiling, "to adjust, but..." he turned to her, a sheen of uncertainty coating his eyes. "Who should I be changing into? I thought maybe with you I'd know, but..." He sighed, closing his eyes tiredly. "I don't."

"But I do," Relena said softly, and covered him with the blanket, hiding his source of shame.

He frowned at her. "You do?"

"You've been gone for a long time," she reminded him, smiling playfully; "You've missed a thing or two while you were sleeping."

"Like a _terminal illness_?" he grumbled, unimpressed.

Dr. Grabelsky had informed him about everything that happened – the blood clot, the ARDS, the coma, his MDS... – but he hadn't told him about the anonymous donor appearing like a bolt of lightning out of the blue, as per their agreement. Heero was aware that a stem cell donation had saved his life, but he had no idea who had given him this precious second chance. It was time he knew.

"He was here," Relena told him, deliberately cryptic. It was the best way to keep him engaged in a conversation.

"Who?" Heero let out impatiently, scowling at her for playing games.

"Odin Lowe," she said, watching his face carefully for his reaction. "Your father. He's the one who saved your life. He gave the donation."

Heero's blue eyes narrowed warily. "What?" he rasped, his defenses shooting back up. "But— Ho—" He wasn't even breathing as he let out a choked " _How_...?"

Relena stood up, smoothing her cardigan. "The Alliance treated his injuries after X18999, and then held him as a prisoner of war," she said, walking over to a large dresser across the room.

"He got out in '96, after the dismantling of OZ," she continued, opening the first drawer; it was full of her cosmetics and toiletries, and a large gift-wrapped book.

She felt Heero's intense gaze on the back of her head, but remained secretive, hiding what she was doing.

"He had no idea what happened to you, until I started looking for a stem cell donor," she retrieved the book from the drawer, turning slowly to face the bed, holding the book in front of her. "I found your family, on L1. Mother went up there, and Wufei helped with the rest."

"M—My... family...?" Heero stuttered, his bewildered gaze slowly changing into a wary frown. "Wufei...?"

Relena nodded, smiling. She walked back to the bed and took a seat by his side, the book in her lap.

"He found Lowe, somehow. I don't know the details. Maybe you should ask him about it one day. I think he would like that."

Heero turned to look the other way, staring numbly at the wall. It was a lot to take in, Relena realized. They had started this journey with just the two of them sitting alone in  a cramped car, and in the blink of an eye, four months passed by and Heero had gone from having nothing, no one, to having so many people out there worrying for him, fighting for him. It must feel as though the whole world had gone mad in his absence.

Relena opened the top envelope-end of the book wrapping; Heero turned to watch intently as she pulled it out bit-by-bit.

"I asked Lowe to stick around, but... He couldn't bring himself to face you," she placed the large A4 album on her thighs, resting two arms over it to hide the cover from Heero's inquisitive gaze. "But he couldn't let you die either," she continued, "He came out of hiding, for you."

Heero turned to gaze out the balcony doors, absorbing the information in disturbed silence.

"He never wanted me."

"That isn't true," Relena argued, flipping through the pages. "He was going to give you up, but only because he wanted you to have a normal life."

She reached the page where she had inserted the picture from the hospital the week Heero was born, of Odin Lowe cradling him in his arms. She held it up in front of him.

Heero stared at it, stunned.

"He wanted you to know he was sorry," she told him, "for everything."

"How... How did you get this?" He turned to her, dumbfounded. "What... What is this?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating. "When you were comatose, I, uh... I guess I went a little crazy," she admitted, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I... I had to do _something_. I was afraid I was going to lose you and I... I tried to find a way to keep busy, somehow. To keep _you_."

Smiling apologetically, she turned the book over, showing him the cover – _'YOUR RØOTS'_. She had used the _"RØOTS"_ logo for the main title – the Earth and a colony linked together by thick brown roots.

"I might have gone a bit overboard..." She laughed sheepishly. Heero studied the cover silently, awed.

"You made this... for _me_?"

She nodded, handing him the book. "You didn't just come out of thin air, Heero. It was all there, waiting to be found."

Heero accepted the book with slender white hands. He placed it over his lap, leafing through the pages, visibly overwhelmed.

"I was afraid to look," he confessed, looking at a news article she had placed there, one reporting about the AC 186 attack on Bulge. She had highlighted his name, as well as his mother's, among the deceased.

"I knew it was out there, but..." He rested his hand on a small blurry passport photo of his mother; one Relena had found in the archive listing the victims of the terror attack on Bulge, and placed next to the article. One could barely make out her face.

Reaching for the album, she nudged it away from him gently to turn the page, looking at Heero's face closely to assess his reaction as she revealed the photograph of Adin and Aoi together, in OZ cadet uniform. She turned the book towards him fully, and leaned back, giving him some space.

Heero's blue eyes grew large with disbelief. He gawked at the photograph, lips parting in wonder. He reached for the image, his fingers stopping an inch before touching it. He studied it a moment longer, and then placed two careful fingers over the picture.

"I didn't want it to hurt all over again..." he mumbled, tracing his fingers over his mother's face, her remarkable blue eyes clearly visible under her cadet cap.

"Your uncle wanted you to have this," Relena whispered, afraid to shatter the gravity of the moment. "I also have the original."

Leaning towards him, she placed her hand over his, their palms resting over the book, and looked deep into his eyes.

"You said your past was all but gone. It's not."

He looked up, hesitant. She smiled, trying to offer strength.

"Space didn't take away everything, Heero. Some of it is still out there. Someone out there cared enough to bring your father out of hiding, and he came back for you. He came for you after Bulge, and he did the same now. He cared enough to do that, twice. He wants you to have a future."

Heero nodded stiffly, having nothing more to say, completely overcome. She gave him some time to work through it, and watched silently as he browsed through the book, stopping to read here and there, but mostly looking at pictures. She observed his face closely as he paused to study the picture of the three siblings, Mishka in Alliance uniform and Adin pouting sourly at the camera. Heero's pale forehead creased with a frown, but he said nothing and continued leafing through the pages, taking a small journey back in time.

He stopped to stare at an old black and white photo of a uniformed officer playing the violin, a lanky man with messy dark hair and stern eyes. He was standing inside a large tent, surrounded by other uniformed men listening to him play.

"This was taken in World War One," she told him. "That's Mikhail Lowensky. He fought for the Russians on the Eastern Front. Your first cousin, once removed, is named after him."

Heero regarded the photo with pensive eyes. He ran his fingers gently over the violin's grainy image.

"It made it all the way from the Eastern Front," Relena said; "It has survived world wars and death camps, passed down through generations. It has survived the Eve Wars too... and made its way back to you."

"You found it." It wasn't a question. Heero had already deduced what she had done in his absence.

"I did," she admitted, seeing no point denying it. "It was the first clue in a long journey."

He nodded weakly, still fixed on the picture of the violin.

"Quatre found it," he uttered, sounding dismayed, "I never should have left it behind in the first place, but..." He inhaled deeply as he turned a page to look at another grainy old photograph, this time of an old man playing the violin. He gawked at it for a moment, and then released the air out slowly.

"J didn't let me take anything. Just picked me off the street... like trash."

Relena closed her eyes, trying to remain strong. The dismay was meant for J, not Quatre, she surmised. Surely, there were many reasons to resent the old man, but she couldn't think of anything more atrocious than denying a child of even this small grace.

The silence thickened, getting too intense. Relena decided to break the ice with a little humor.

"You know, Heero, now that you've met my family, and I've met yours, we can basically start sending out wedding invitations..."

His head snapped in alarm.

She laughed. "Oh my god, Heero, relax! It was a _joke!_ "

"Not funny."

"I've been sitting next to an unconscious man for four months; _excuse me_ if my conversational skills are a little rusty!"

"Hn," he huffed, closing the book with a snap. He thrust it back towards her. Why was he taking it so hard?

"Besides," she added with a smile as she placed the book on the nightstand, "I think mother has taken a real shine to you. And if you're okay in her book, you'll do just fine."

Heero turned to lie on his side, pulling the blanket up. He glared at her from the bed, hardly amused. "I'll sleep on it," he let out thoughtfully, closing his eyes.

"I wasn't really offering," she hurried to assure him.

"Then why are you still talking about it?" he murmured in a sleep-heavy voice and rolled over to face the other way, escaping the bright winter light pouring in through the balcony doors. He yanked the blanket up to his neck.

Relena got up to close the curtains. The room fell into a dim grey darkness. She remained by the windows to unbutton her cardigan.

"You should keep your name."

The whisper from the bed made Relena pause, her fingers on the last button.

"...after we're married," Heero added for clarification.

That threw her for a solid moment.

"Heero, we are _not_ getting married," she told him firmly, smiling as she slipped out of her sweater and let it drop to the floor. Her bra soon joined it, but she remained in her loose white blouse.

She walked over to the bed, unbuttoning her jeans on the way. "It was a _joke_ ," she made clear, wriggling free of the legs and toppling into the edge of the bed.

"Hn," Heero let out sleepily; "...just saying."

Relena joined him under the covers, lying curled face to face. He kept his eyes closed and his hand tucked under his cheek. She listened to his heavy breathing. He wrinkled his nose, and raised a hand to rub it. His bangs were tickling him. She giggled softly. She should offer to cut his hair tomorrow; he was long overdue for a haircut.

"And you?" she whispered, brushing the hair away gently from his face. "What about you? Who will I be marrying, exactly?"

Heero didn't say anything, his breathing slow and heavy. She turned to lie on her other side, facing away from him, but nudged closer until she was spooned against him under the covers, her bottom pressed against the warmth of his groin. He draped an arm around her, pulling her closer, and snuck a hand under her shirt, cupping her breasts. For once, she allowed it.

"...we'll see," he murmured, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

She chuckled, shaking her head against the pillow. "You do know I was only joking, right?"

Heero kept his eyes closed. A hidden little smile curved at the corners of his lips.

"...we'll see."

*          *          *


	9. Epilogue

Dressed in a stylish black pants suit, Relena skidded smoothly down the stairs, her ponytail bouncing against her back. Passing through the foyer, she gave the weather a quick check, noting the blue summer skies waiting for her outside.

She passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen. The large wall-to-wall windows were open to let in a warm ocean breeze, while offering a magnificent view of the white beach and crystal blue waters beyond. Used to the sight, she paid it no heed as she hurried to the kitchen to grab a coffee.

Heero stood by the sink in front of the large kitchen window – a lanky silhouette against the bright beach. She smelled coffee and toast. He had made breakfast.

His thick brown hair was in a state of morning disarray, though she knew he'd been awake since before dawn. A black pair of sweats and a plain white tank top hung from his wiry frame. His taut muscles flexed under a healthy summer tan as he prepared a sandwich.

"I'm just going to grab a coffee and go," she told him as she went straight to the coffee pot standing on a kitchen unit opposite of the window. Two pieces of buttered-toast waited on a plate by the toaster. Relena smiled, and threw one into her mouth, holding it between pressed lips as she poured herself a cup of coffee, straight into a thermal mug.

"I'm going to be _so_ late..." she said, voice muffled, the bread bobbing up and down with each word; "I was up half the night again!"

"Next time put your makeup on in the car," Heero said flatly and finally turned to face her, holding out a small brown paper bag. The thin layer of stubble on his face, complete with his messy faux-hawk, and his prominent collarbone peeking under a loose tank top, made for a sexy rugged look. Sometimes she still missed the feeling of stroking her fingers through unruly bangs, but his new hairstyle was very becoming on a man pushing thirty-two.

"You're going to hit traffic anyway," he muttered and handed her the sandwich bag.

Relena smiled sheepishly, lips curling around the toast held in her mouth.

"What's this?" she muffled through the bread, one hand holding the coffee, the other reaching for the bag.

"Lunch," he said simply, turning back to the countertop, tidying up. Heero kept a spotless kitchen.

"You didn't have to," she smiled.

"Yes, I did," he muttered. "You forget to eat."

"I swear to god, Heero, if you're going to comment about my weight—"

"Seiki," he cut in and she stopped, baffled.

"What?"

"You said Heero." He reprimanded, cleaning around the sink.

Relena smiled sheepishly, and pulled the toast out of her mouth. "Sorry," she chuckled nervously, "Force of habit."

"Hn," he grunted, wiping the countertop clean. "You married Seiki," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but I dated Heero," she smirked, "It's all very confusing..."

"I hope you come up with a better dissertation defense than this lame excuse," he taunted, shaking his head.

"Defending my Ph.D. is easy," she took a small bite of toast, and then placed it on the kitchen island; "Having you proof-read it, _that's_ what's hard."

"Hn," he let out, eyeing the toast she had placed on the counter, crumbs scattered all around it. Annoyance flashed on his face as he shot her a sharp look.

"Don't forget to eat," he said, wiping the crumbs with a cloth.

"I won't," she promised.

"Your OBGyn said you should be _gaining_ weight, not losing it."

She scoffed dismissively. "Fine, I'll _eat_ , don't worry. I could barely fit back into these pants anyway... It's starting to show so fast!"

"You look just fine," he recited an automatic reply, one she had heard often.

"You're just saying that."

"Maybe I am," he shrugged his tanned shoulders, "Maybe not."

She chuckled and stepped closer to kiss him on his stubbly cheek, smiling up lovingly. "Wish me luck!"

"Like you need it," he snarled slyly, kissing back, just a small peck on her lips. "Good luck, Doctor Darlian."

Relena smiled back affectionately. "Have a nice day, _Mister_ Darlian..."

She walked back into the living room, carrying her coffee and lunch. Bright morning light flooded the rustic old beach house. She had kept some of her mother's furniture, but also added her own personal touch. The interior design was simple, but cozy. She had filled the shelves and walls with photos and various knickknacks, precious mementos they had collected over the years. They had done a great deal of travelling together, before making the lovely old house their permanent residence.

Seiki's— it still felt weird to say it! — Heero's violin hung above the mantel; a precious heirloom watching over the large family room.

A collection of framed photos rested on the mantel shelf below it; a humble shrine to their trips around the world: the Iguazu Falls, Venice, the Rainbow Mountains of Zhangye Danxia, the Torres Del Paine, the Temples of Bagan, and over a dozen more stunning architectural feats, tropical paradises, and breathtaking landscapes featuring in every traveler's bucket list.

After she had finally handed in her thesis work, about a year after Heero's transplant, she had suggested they take some time off and see the world. Heero had resigned his position at Preventer a few months prior, but he had rather a lot of money put away. His spoils of war, so to speak, sitting in a fat Swiss account. Never the materialistic type, he hadn't thought of using it in over ten years. His savings had sustained them for over a year of traveling. Relena had insisted on taking at least one photo at each site, usually a selfie taken in front of one memorable monument or another.

If a few years ago the only picture she had of him had been the one of him sitting dead in her mother's lounge chair, today she had a vast collection of precious memories (even though he was scowling in most of them; he still hated having his picture taken). She had also placed a photograph of her parents, as well as the picture of Adin and Aoi. Heero didn't like it at first, but he had learned to accept the mantelshelf as its rightful place.

She would have liked to place a wedding photo there as well, but they hadn't held a proper ceremony. Always the one for subtlety, Heero had wanted to keep it simple. As a young girl, she had dreamt of a grand marriage proposal and a ceremony by the beach, but as a woman over thirty, she had settled for a mutual agreement that it was time to tie the knot and a short visit to city hall. A couple of signatures, and it was all over.

Other than the photographs, the living room was packed with their personal items. If all Heero had to bring with him when they had first moved in together was a suitcase full of clothes and a single cardboard box with a few trinkets inside, today he had a couple of boxes' worth, at least. Books, novelties, gadgets, souvenirs, art... a whole bunch of useless stuff to claim as his own. His antiquated edition of _Moby Dick_ , for example, now stood next to a similarly ancient copy of Charles Perrault's 1697 AD _La Belle au bois Dormant_ , The Sleeping Beauty – another one of Duo's ideas of a joke. Heero had smacked him over the head with it, but Duo had just laughed it off, promising to add another book to the collection each time he'd have to visit Heero after a stay at the hospital. He had kept true to his promise, and the last time he had visited, Duo had brought them an ancient copy of _Peter Pan_.

The wide variety of personal artifacts made for a warm homey feel, but never cluttered. Like the kitchen, Heero kept the place immaculately tidy. A large shelving unit behind the sofa held numerous boxes – all labeled and organized to perfection.

His workstation stood next to the shelves, his laptop already open. An empty coffee mug rested on a coaster by his computer. Heero was usually up before sunrise, while she caught up on some much needed sleep.

A second coaster lay next to the mug, an empty baby bottle on top. A colorful baby-bouncer sat on the floor by his office chair, rocking back and forth under the momentum of kicking little legs. A small baby, dressed in a blue onesie, lay inside, his large blue eyes looking up at the vibrant toys dangling above him.

Relena knelt in front of the bouncer, placing her coffee and lunch bag on the floor. She smiled down at her son.

"Who kept mommy up all night?" she asked in a sweet high-pitched tone and tickled the little one's tummy. "Who kept mommy up? Who? Peter? Yeah? Peter kept mommy up all night?"

Her baby boy cooed happily, waving his chubby little arms in excitement. She reached for one of the boxes on the shelving unit behind him; a large blue box labeled _'toys'_. She took out a rattler and swayed it playfully, beaming lovingly at her baby boy – six months old and already they had another one on the way. They said trouble came in threes, but she was determined to be extra careful next time!

 _'I'd do this for you if I could'_ , Heero had whispered in her ear as she had struggled to push their baby out. Well, now she wished he would! She couldn't bear the thought of going through that again, and so soon too. She hoped for a girl, having already decided to name her Lily (saving Duo the trouble of searching for a suitable antiquated book, for the name already featured in the one he had bought for Peter's birth. Although, knowing him, he'd probably bring an oversized stuffed _tiger_...).

God, they could barely handle one baby, how would they ever manage _two_? Granted, unlike the first pregnancy, this one they hadn't planned for, but...

 _'Are you sure you're okay doing this?'_ she had asked Heero a while back, fidgeting with her fingers as she watched him shove a load of laundry into the machine.

 _'Of course,'_ he had said, pouring detergent into the dispenser, _'Easiest thing I've ever done.'_ He turned to her, and she noted a dark stain on his ragged blue T-shirt. Deadpan, he added _'I'm used to taking care of shit,'_ and she had laughed, relieved.

Always feeling guilty that he stayed home while she was out there in the real world, she had to check in with him every now and then, making sure he didn't mind that the roles didn't quite fit the conventional mold. He had even taken her surname in marriage, something the other ex-Gundam pilots would often tease him about when they got together, at least once a year. They were the only people on the planet brave enough to do so to Heero's face.

Sure, her husband was a stay-at-home dad, but it wasn't as if she was the breadwinner. Her meager doctoral scholarship barely covered her bi-weekly trips to New York. Still, she was the one who got to step out of the house every now and then and get away from the dirty diapers, piles of laundry and... shit. Her research often took her out of town, sometimes even out of the country. Heero worked from home, a freelance programmer, earning a fat paycheck on top of taking care of the household, and their son. Her penance was taking on the graveyard shift whenever she was home, while he slept like a corpse. A well-deserved rest, but still. The long sleepless nights rocking a baby in her arms could get very lonely.

"Who kept mommy up? Who?" she repeated in a high singsong voice, waving the rattler in from of Peter's face. "Who kept mommy up, huh? And who gets to stay home and take long naps all afternoon? Who? Daddy? Yeah? _Daddy?_ "

"Who's going to get stuck in traffic driving to New York...?" Heero–– she should really stop calling him that in her head, or she'd never be able to stop her tongue from slipping when speaking his name–– Seiki asked calmly as he stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishrag.

She laughed, looking up.

"Okay, okay, I'm _leaving_..." She turned back to their son, smiling. "Now, you be a good boy today, Peter," she instructed, stroking his delicate dark hair. "Let daddy work, or he'll be all _grumpy_ when I come back home tonight," she grumbled childishly for emphasis.

"Hn," Heero (Seiki!) uttered in protest, concealing a little smirk. He was aware of his temperamental nature and unpredictable moodiness, for she would often tease him about it, masking actual critique with a nervous joke. He'd been working on it, especially since Peter was born and tensions between them became higher than usual.

Life had proven to be less the fairytale-version she had dreamed of as a young teenage girl, and more like a rollercoaster speeding up and down rickety tracks. Some days she still had to walk on eggshells around him, and some days she didn't. Somehow, they made it work. Well, on most days. The word _"divorce"_ had been thrown around angrily a time or ten, but so far it has been nothing more than an empty, hotheaded, threat. Still better than _'I'll kill you'_ , so that was progress...

She smiled at him, signaling that she was only joking at his expense. She picked up her things and stood up, kissing him lightly on the cheek on her way to the door.

"I'll see you tonight," she said.

He nodded. "Drive safe."

"Not safe _ly_?" she paused by the foyer, frowning thoughtfully.

"It's a flat adverb," Seiki replied easily, picking Peter up from the bouncer. He held him against his shoulder and turned to her. "Either form is correct." He walked her to the door, holding their baby boy in one arm as he opened it for her. "And debating grammar when you're already late is deeply inadvisable," he said, gesturing out the door.

"Oh, the cleverness of you..." She swooned, wrapping her arms around his neck, coffee and lunch bag interlocked behind his head. She pulled him into a hug.

"Relena," he berated softly.

"Just twenty more seconds..." she murmured against his warm chest. He relented, sighing, and remained standing in the doorway, allowing the hug. He reached his free arm to embrace her loosely, holding their baby boy in the other.

"You're wasting time standing here," he admonished softly.

"Not a chance," she whispered back, pulling away a little to look up at his bristly face. Peter prattled softly, gnawing on Seiki's white tank top strap. They smiled at each other, and for a precious moment...

...time stood still.

 

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Download the full eBook[here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/vo02pex7wjj2pj3/Gundam%20Wing%20-%20Standstill%20-%20Elle%20Smith%20-%20eBook.pdf?dl=0).**  
> 
> Okay, so the original plan was to kill Heero and end things in chapter 3 as a very depressing deathfic, but since I had recently lost someone close to me due to unexpected heart failure, I didn't feel like killing anyone anymore (let alone by sudden cardiac death), which was how the rest of it came to be. Hey, who doesn't love a good coma/coming-back-from-the-dead trope? ^^;
> 
> So, this story switched from silly romance to an exploration of identity, mainly Heero's post-war identity, but also Relena's. In the beginning, Heero is Heero Yuy, secretly hating it, and Relena is still holding onto her teenage hero, slowly learning to accept that he isn't that person anymore.
> 
> She starts seeing more between his cracks, but before she can resolve it properly, he's taken ill. Desperate to hold onto him, she starts getting glimpses of his real identity in his long absence, but she is losing him. She has only a body, and a name without meaning.
> 
> She chases after "Seiki", but ultimately, he's not "Seiki" either. She ends up helping him redefine "Seiki" and they both learn to let go of "Heero Yuy", in all his forms. He's not a symbol for the cause, he's not a Gundam pilot, he's not her teenage dream. He's only human, she discovers after tending to him throughout the coma. As he lays there, stripped right down to the blank canvas, Relena finally sees the real him, the plain, and simple man behind the glitzy image she still held of him.
> 
> She learns to love him all over again, and when he asks her if she would still love him when he doesn't want to be "Heero" anymore, the alternative being relapsing back to nothing, she says "yes", and she means it. She had also learned that she was no longer that teenage girl standing on cliff and shouting at the ocean for her hero. No. She's an equal now. Human, just like him.
> 
> Or, at least, that's what my beta told me this story is all about! ^_~
> 
> Anyways, I do hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought of it. I spent SO MUCH time writing it, revising it, agonizing over it... Drop me a line, if you can.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Elle


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